


Don't Threaten Us (With A Good Time)

by Foxley45



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BTAS influenced, Bets & Wagers, Burton Influenced, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Future Fic, Karaoke, M/M, New Year's Eve, Not EVERYONE Hates Oswald, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Poker Nights, Post-Season/Series 05, Silver the Wing Woman, another fic that ignores the outcome of 5x12, the very first almost got em poker session
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-10-01 04:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxley45/pseuds/Foxley45
Summary: It's the week of New Years Eve in Gotham City, five years after reunification. Business is booming and the city's prodigal son Bruce Wayne has returned. What's the worst that could possibly happen?Oh right...Never-mind.(Canon divergent from episode 5x02 on with remixed/reimagined references to other episodes in season five)





	1. Forty-Eight Hours Ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selina is called in on a favor. Leslie gets an uninvited visitor and all Harvey wants is to leave work for once without a call from Arkham at the last minute.

**I.**

The last time Selina Kyle had stepped foot near Arkham, she had been around fourteen ( _or was it fifteen_? Her past lives were a bit fuzzy as she was currently on her third lease of life), attempting to break in to help a boy she had once known and was actively avoiding the man he had become. As fuzzy as the incident was, it was possibly the first time in the institution’s history that anyone had attempted to do so. It was also the first time she had ever crossed paths with one Edward Nygma, the ( _formerly_ ) forensics guy.

This time, however, she wasn’t crawling through dusty ventilation systems, but was parked not far off from the main entrance in a borrowed black 1976 Thunderbird (completed with tinted windows), glancing over the Gotham Gazette’s society page, finding out that Billionaire Bruce Wayne had invited the visiting Russian Ballet Troupe to the Christmas Party of the year. A party that celebrated the refurbishment of Wayne Manor since its unfortunate destruction during the “incident.” It was a party that she skipped out in favor of some nighttime parkour. Not that Selina’s spotting of Bruce at a charity event a week before with Silver St. Cloud by his side had anything to do with her decision ( _it didn’t_ ).

Either way, Bruce was not a concern of Selina’s since he physically reappeared a few months ago after his abrupt departure from the city almost five years ago. Though he was absent, the amount of money that the Wayne foundation had poured back into the city, it could have fooled her. 

With a sigh, Selina turned the page of the Gazette only to be confronted by a two page spread announcing the fourth annual (technically _fifth_ New Years Eve bash to be held at the Iceburg Lounge, reminded again as to how she wound up in the visitor’s parking lot of Arkham…

She was not there out of the goodness of her heart, but rather out of a long standing favor the Penguin had finally decided to call upon after all this time, proving that his rolodex of favors and grudges were true. The request itself had been out of the blue really, and it was one made at the most inopportune of moments (depending on how one looked at it).

Selina had been in the process of breaking into a private gallery owned by a developer that had planned to tear down an animal shelter that she had occasionally made anonymous donations towards since her partial inheritance of Barbara Keane’s estate a few years back. The developer, _Emperor and Egret Co_., had plans to tear the facility down to make room for luxury apartments. Such development was becoming frequent of late given the city’s accelerated recovery from the collapse. Sometimes Selina wondered if the recovery had gone too quickly, just as easily as it was for her to break into the gallery:

“Cat! What a coincidence seeing you here!” a familiar voice greeted Selina as she gained her footing from her rooftop entry. She internally cursed herself from ignoring Penguin’s earlier texts in the week…well the month really.

“Penguin,” she greeted back, pushing up her goggles and eyeing the two lackeys in black with ridiculous Penguin logos screen-printed on their shirts, trailing behind their impeccably dressed employer.

“I was just here making a house call with our mutual friend Mr. Jones. Seems like he had gotten it in his head to acquire land under my nose, but no matter, what exactly brings you here?” he asked Selina, not bothering to look at her, instead, polishing his monocle.

“A house call,” she told him, still sizing up his lackeys. Their choice of wardrobe was a bit too on the nose, but not as extreme as some of the other Rogues’ goons of the month. It was a trend that seemed to have stuck since the fall. Selina had to restrain her urge to roll her eyes and utilize her bullwhip to end the exchange.

As if sensing her annoyance, he continued speaking, “Fair enough. I will keep this short. I know how busy you are with your budding social life, but I have a small favor to ask of you.”

 “A favor? Hmm?” she said in mock thought, “If the price is right…”

Penguin arched an eyebrow before he started to chuckle, a sign that there was more to his request than what he was letting on, and maybe (definitely) damning info to back it up. Selina gripped her whip tighter, taking a slight step back, a dark shadow moving in her peripheral view that the other three hadn’t noticed, “Just hear me out, before you bring the claws out, I'm not referring to any old favor...I'm referring to _THAT_ favor."

“You can’t be serious,” she groaned for a slight moment, feeling seventeen again.

“I am. I will reconsider withdrawing those plans _legally_ for that development Jones was eyeing. Seeing that’s where I found Eddie as a pup…I could _never_ do such a thing,” he finished in mock hurt, “I expect to see you at the lounge then?”

“I’ll have to decline.”

“Suit yourself, not sure what I’ll be able to tell our dear captain when he asks who tried to rob me this evening, ”

“ _Emperor & Egret?_” The realization dawning on her, though she had her suspicions.

“Not my idea, but it does have a nice ring to it. Anyway, nice catching up with you since you never answer your texts. I have a party to plan while you avoid the GCPD or that oversized rodent, whomever comes first. _HORACE_ , _ROY_!” Penguin snapped as he turned on his feet to leave, pulling out his own smartphone to punch something in, a security code she recognized.

“Wait!” she blurted, hating how petty the crime boss was being about this.

“Changed your mind?”

 “I’ll be there in fifteen,” was all she told him before she zipped out of the gallery with her grappling gun empty handed. Once she landed back on the graveled rooftop, her newly adopted cat Isis emerged from its hiding place and into the waiting arms of Selina. She began to scratch the back of the cat’s ears, Isis purring affectionately until the cat shifted in her arms and began to hiss at something outside of Selina’s view: “There, there, _HE_ isn’t going to bother us tonight…sorry to disappoint,” she coyly said aloud, a smirk gracing her features. She didn’t bother with turning around to face the Bat who was already taking off into the night, steadfastly ignoring the rapidly sinking feeling in her stomach…

 … _AND_ that was how she ended up on temporary chauffeur duty the following day. All hands were on deck at the lounge, preparing for the New Years Eve bash. For whatever reason, ( _Selina could only assume another disagreement between the two men_ ), Penguin wasn’t able to pick Nygma up upon his release from Arkham due to good behavior as signed off by a new psychiatrist from what Selina was told. Besides, Penguin’s normally robust staff were currently stretched thin with party preparations (and new years eve shipments, a perfect cover) no one else could pick the man up because of one of the following:

_A) They were already interned at Arkham or Blackgate_  
_B) Had gone underground_  
_C) OR, Ed had singlehandedly pissed someone off for whatever reason…_

 

**KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK**

 

Selina folded the paper down to see Ed peering in the tinted passenger window. She leaned over to roll down the window in greeting before unlocking the door: “Longtime no see Riddleman,” she told him, scrunching up her face at the clash of the Arkham orange jacket he “borrowed” to combat the late December chill and the garish green body suit he had been wearing at the time of his arrest amid a failed ballet heist. It was a heist that Selina was coincidently in the audience a few months back.

“Where’s Penguin?” he suspiciously asked upon seeing that the backseat wasn’t occupied. He slid in the passenger seat before slamming the door shut.

“He was busy. So he sent me to pick you up and drop you-”

“Off at the lounge?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t,” he told Selina, only quieter than from before.

“Not happening. I’m dropping you off, and going on about my life,” she told him, starting up the car.

At this, Ed slammed the palms of his hands on the passenger side of the dashboard out of frustration. It was then that Selina noticed the healing bruise underneath his right eye, made even more apparent by the Arkham issued glasses.

“What?” she asked, trying to decipher his protest for being taken to the lounge, “Did you and Penguin have a falling out _again?”_ she asked. She wondered how the two managed to remain associates time and time again without killing the other _permanently_. She watched as Ed pinched the bridge of his nose, only to let out an exaggerated sigh.

“There hasn’t been any falling out. I just don’t want to talk about it, can we just leave now,” he told her, gesturing towards Arkham.

“Sorry to have asked,” Selina huffed going for the radio to fill what she predicted to be an awkward ride back into the city. An oldies station was the first station to come through, even though it wasn’t her cup of tea, she figured it was something that Ed would listen to.

 

_“Can’t take my eyes off you, you’re just too good to be true. It be like heaven to-”_

Immediately Ed had reached over to turn to the next available station, one playing a song about Africa of all places, “ _They_ still make music? I thought they’d stopped after _Pinkerton_ …” he said more to himself than anything before finally landing on the classical station.

“Whatever,” Selina said under her breath, peeling away from the cursed building as Ed settled back into his seat.

About ten minutes later into the drive as they approached a bridge back into the city, she had glanced over to find that Ed was already fast asleep.

 

***

**( _Hours Later…Elsewhere in the City_ )**

It took some coaxing, but Lee had finally managed to get her goddaughter to bed after playing what might have been five rounds of ‘Cops and Robbers’ that night. She would make sure to have word with Jim about that when he came to pick Barbara up in the morning after getting a last minute call from the man about babysitting after his had called off ill at the last minute. Thankfully for Lee, the four year old was blessedly asleep at the moment, leaving Auntie Lee with some alone time to enjoy a nightcap…or so she thought…

She had just finished putting her pajamas on when she heard a thud and a muffled string of curses coming from the living room below. Immediately she went for her robe and pistol that she kept locked away in a hidden floor compartment of her bedroom. She slipped the weapon into the pocket of her robe before leaving. Checking on Barbara once more, who was still asleep, Lee slinked downstairs towards the noise, hand around the handle, cautiously waiting around the corner as she heard the intruder poke around her fireplace, stoking it. For a moment she was genuinely confused until she took a wild guess as to whom the intruder was before she revealed herself: “Hands where I can see them,” she ordered as Ed dropped the fire poker to the ground, the thin iron accessory clattered to the ground as he held both hands up, “What do you want Ed?” she asked with a wince from the sound, lowering the pistol slightly, still pointing it at him. In spite of his civilian wear of snow boots, trousers, turtleneck and plaid green coat, this was still Ed Nygma aka the infamous Riddler.

“And a hello to you too Ms. Tompkins,” he replied smoothly, hands still up.

“You still didn’t answer the question Ed. What. Do. You. Want?” Lee asked again, not wanting to deal with him at the moment, especially with Jim's daughter above them asleep. That was the _LAST_ thing Ed needed to be privy of.

“Almost everyone needs it, asks for it, gives it but almost nobody takes it,” he soon said.

Lee wasn’t going to give him a response as she stood there, not amused and tired really.

“Fine. Advice. I came here for advice. I’ve realized something very important…but I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Advice? Couldn’t you have texted or called instead of breaking and entering? And while we’re on the subject, what happened to Fox?”

“I didn’t want my words to be misconstrued over a text… _also_ you changed your contact information…and I tried Fox, out of town,” Ed quickly added as he started to fidget.

As vague as Ed was being about his reasoning for breaking into her house of all places, even she had to admit that there was something a bit off him the past year, especially from the video footage of his arrest from the Gotham Metropolitan Opera House a few months back. It wasn’t as if she had kept tabs on her former colleagues (and partners, _however brief,_ in crime) the _Gotham Gazette_ was for that.

Her observation was a result of a rare passing remark from Penguin during one of his monthly house calls after their forced Alliance during the Sofia episode and that during the collapse. They never directly addressed the events between those times, but she always assumed that being brought back to the land of the living was enough (minus the side effects which had subsided significantly overtime), as long as she stayed away from Ed. Not that she needed that explicit directive…

He opened then closed his mouth before putting his hands down to his sides, as he tried to choose his words carefully. Whatever it was that drove him to seek her out, Lee surmised that it had to be something emotional, given that he wasn’t acting with all the cleverness or bravado of the Riddler.

With a sigh, Lee took a step forward into the living room, only going as close to her couch, before asking if he wanted to have a seat. He quickly settled down on the tufted couch rather awkwardly before she could finish. She then moved to the spot where he had just stood, now holding the abandoned fire poker, glancing over at the bar cart for a moment before returning her attention to Ed.

Silence stretched between them with only the crackling of the fireplace punctuating the weird tension that hung in the room.

Eventually Ed cleared his throat, breaking the silence with his own version of a confession...

 

 ( ** _Meanwhile At Arkham_ )**

“Can anyone actually explain how in the ever loving fuck Jeremiah Valeska escaped!?” Harvey Bullock exclaimed, more than irritated that this of all things would be happening thirty minutes before the end of his shift as he and Jim Gordon followed two security guards down the administration wing of Arkham while a team of responders were conducting a sweep of the facility inside and out, “First Nygma is let out earlier in the day now this? _THIS_?! The guy was in a coma the last we were informed.”

“Harvey,” Jim warned of his partner to rein it in at the moment to keep it professional though Jim had to admit that was his initial thought when he received the call that evening, a call that he dreaded ever having to receive.

“You owe me a drink once this is all over, you know we don’t get paid enough to deal with this,” Harvey grumbled.

It was true that when they were able to recover Valeska's body from the vat of acid at the former ACE chemicals factory, he was miraculously still alive, a faint heartbeat detected but not responsive to much of anything else. If in a city where people were brought back from the dead, it shouldn’t have been surprising that a man could survive a fall into acid.

Initially Valeska was temporarily held at a makeshift hospital at Blackgate under 24-hour surveillance before he was transferred to a ward at Arkham without incident in the years following. Jim had only visited once, after the insistence of Bruce who had left the city not long after that. Jim didn’t need to ask who had put up the money for the cell Valeska was being held in, a blueprint of which smaller versions would be duplicated in a newer wing financed by the Wayne Corporation.

The security guards they were following stopped at an office at the end of the administrative wing; the door already open to raised voices, which had stopped the moment Jim and Harvey stepped in. There were three doctors in lab coats, two women and a man.

“Captain. Dr. Joan Leeland. Thank you for coming in spite of the circumstances,” the taller of the two women stepped forward to shake Jim’s hand, “this is Dr. Hargreaves and Dr. Quinzel,” she motioned towards the two other doctors, “Quinzel is the one who alerted us to the situation.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t the one behind the escape?” Harvey asked, much to the surprise of the doctors and the exasperation of Jim.

“If I were, why would I be willing to assist with the recovery of Mr. Valeska detective,” the young Doctor said herself stepping forward, challenging Harvey’s accusation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello World!
> 
> This has been an idea that I have had floating around for sometime and thought to finally put pen to paper and to share it (and not immediately throw it into a literal and figurative recycling bin). Not sure if this will be completed by the time of the season premiere, so caution was taken to immediately place this firmly in a post season 5 cannon divergent universe.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Not much in the way of shenanigans, yet, but plot! tension! and mystery? so thanks for reading thus far, and a happy new year!
> 
> [Also, the title is a variation on "Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time)" by Panic! At the Disco which may or may not have been the spark that set this fic in motion]


	2. Twenty Four Hours Ago (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred has his own concerns & Oswald is reminded of the previous year's poker night.

**II.**

  _( **Wayne Manor)**_

There was no need of Alfred to wake Bruce the following morning. The young man was already awake if the loud anguished voice of Trent Reznor reverberating off the glass panels of the attached greenhouse was any indication as Alfred arrived to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The door to the greenhouse was already open, so it was easy for him to sneak up on Bruce, only to be ignored by the younger man as he landed punch after punch towards a newly installed bag that hadn’t been there before.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to compete with the musician, Alfred calmly walked over to the portable stereo and turned down the volume the moment Bruce had landed a roundhouse kick to the bag: “Good morning Master Bruce. An uneventful night I take?” Alfred asked, hands clasped behind his back.

The greeting was in reference to Bruce’s increased habit of sleeping during the day and an attempt to humor his employer. Alfred did not get so much of a reply as he did a grunt and a forced smirk as Bruce grabbed a towel hanging off the chair that the radio was placed and headed out of the greenhouse.

“If this has anything to do with,” Alfred paused, wondering how to broach the topic, considering how things ended between the two, “With Miss. Ky-”

“No Alfred, it’s nothing concerning her, but thank you,” Bruce cut him off, “I received a call from the Captain. Apparently Jeremiah has gone missing,” he continued as a brief distant look graced his features as he grabbed a water bottle out of the freezer.

“I see,” Alfred responded, now understanding the reason behind Bruce’s intense morning workout, “ Well then, is there anything you’ll be needing while you’re working?” he asked, knowing that dissuading Bruce from his own investigation into Valeska’s disappearance would be futile.

“No, not at the moment,” Bruce replied, “I’ll be down in the study, I expect a visit from Gordon at some point today,” he finished before fully retreating.

Once Bruce was out of earshot, Alfred let out a resigned sigh, mentally preparing himself for the days ahead given this new development.

He knew that when they would return ( _and they would_ ) to Gotham, things would be fundamentally different. He also knew Bruce was a different person after all that time they worked alongside the GCPD to reclaim the city back to some degree of normalcy. It didn’t matter that the government swooped in at the eleventh hour. Everyone had changed for the better or for the worse.

Had Martha and Thomas been alive, Alfred was certain that they would have stayed behind, assisting with relief efforts. Either way, Bruce’s parents would have been proud at the choice he had made… _then._

**_Now_  **was a different matter.

Bruce’s parents would have still been proud of him, but even Alfred had to admit that Martha and Thomas would have been almost a bit sad that their son’s happiness had to be sacrificed in his pursuit of justice.

Bruce could portray the façade of a devil may care billionaire, especially one as young as he, but Alfred knew otherwise. He was really the only person that spent as much time with him. Alfred only became aware of this train of thought after bandaging Bruce up from one of his first patrols as the Bat more than a year and a half ago. (Contrary to the society reports, Bruce had indeed been back in the city much longer than the reported six months working literally behind the scenes).

The closest Alfred could recall Bruce being happy without pretense, no matter how brief, had been in the company of Miss Kyle and that in the very early days of meeting Jeremiah after Jerome’s death and before Jeremiah’s unfortunate transformation. Things then blew up literally and figuratively with Selina and Valeska choosing their own paths, none of which were in the best interests of Bruce’s own…. although there was still hope for Miss. Kyle, if there was any indication of her presence at the charity function.

“Alright, better start those quiches,” Alfred said to himself, putting away his train of thoughts, reminding himself that Bruce had a good head on his shoulders and he knew what he was doing, even if it did seem a bit odd to the outsider.

 

**_(_ ** **_Van Dahl Estate)_ **

_Pick up, Pick up, Pick up,_ Oswald impatiently thought as the dial tone on his phone continued to buzz. He glanced over at his nightstand to see that the clock read eight o’ clock.

It was too early for what he was doing, but after receiving a text from his personal assistant leaving a link to the Gotham Gazette reporting on the disappearance of Jeremiah Valeska, the call was worth it (and the ensuing headache).

“Yellll-oooo” drawled out the familiar yet disaffected voice on the other end of the line.

“Zsasz, it’s Peng-”

“Penguin, I know,” the man deadpanned, cutting him off. The sound of something sizzling in the background could be heard, “Kinda in the middle of something.”

Oswald could only assume it was with breakfast, so with a deep breath he cut to the chase, “I need you to bring a bottle  _NOT_  a cask of that concoction you brought last year for tonight…or at least at your earliest convenience today,” Oswald requested, not surprised that Zsasz’s tune changed immediately.

“Well hot damn, why didn’t you say so…someone wants an encore from last year,” he said as the sound of utensils clattered in the background, “I mean even you had to admit that was kinda hot wh-”

“ _THANKS ZSASZ_ ,” Oswald said raising his voice and ending the call right then and there before the assassin could continue, leaving Oswald to lay back down in the comfort of his canopied bed, hearing the tell-tell patter of his bull dog padding up the hallway.

He started replaying what he could remember of that night. Maybe it had been a good night considering that he could only recall snatches of it after the poker game had devolved into something else completely, but given that Fries and even Kyle of all people had to fill him in on some parts. Oswald would make sure that Zsasz would be banned from bringing any celebratory drinks to any future gatherings.

Oswald was only making the exception due to all the stresses of simultaneously trying to pull off the biggest party of the year and arms deal. Add a missing Valeska to the mix, he needed something to take the edge off temporarily.

_Or is it really because of me Mr. Penguin?_ Oswald’s internal voice of reason that sounded suspiciously like Ed’s chimed in.

He grabbed the nearest pillow in bed and placed it over his head, letting out a muffled groan.

 

**_(The Umbra Café, Formerly Oswald’s aka Fish’s)_ **

  **ONE YEAR AGO**

 

To the average Gothamite, The Umbra Café appeared to be just one of your normal looking startup coffee shops that were popping up left and right that year in the city, until one noticed the baristas running the shop near closing time. Two men and a woman who looked better equipped at handling security details than a caramel macchiato (though one of the men  _could_  indeed make a pretty mean macchiato as Ivy Pepper would find out later in the week while passing through the same neighborhood) were stationed at the counter making remaining patrons quickly finish their drinks and coffee dates.

When the door to the kitchen area swung open, nothing would have indicated any patron of the café’s former past as a dancehall club, unless you were one the Penguin’s guests that night. All one had to do was request as complaint to the manager to one of the baristas while sliding a silver envelope over to them.

The barista would disappear into the kitchen before returning with instructions to follow them to the manager’s office, the office being the walk in freezer with a false back wall that lead into the former club and a brief check in by security. Penguin wasn’t one to take chances on this type of gathering of a few of the underworld’s figureheads and other notable outliers that survived the fall of Gotham. All were gathered here for a few rounds of poker in the chance of winning a cool million in unmarked bills. Where the money came from didn’t matter.

What the guests did not know was that the game wasn’t designed to work in their favor, it was all for the benefit of the Penguin to collect information in the conversations that swirled around the table and making sure that only a select few remained at the table by 11PM, whether by the players cashing out or by force. All that matter were the ones still there by 11:15PM, both Victors, Pike, Kyle, Pepper, Ecco and Nygma of course.

During this round in the game, barbs and trash talk began to arise, but nothing to the extent of guns, flame throwers or freeze rays being pointed at each other. This observation made Oswald momentarily wonder what exactly were in the drinks Zsasz and his people had brought in a cask as a weird peace offering once amateur hour had ended. At first Oswald thought the man had brought vintage wine or champagne, but he explained it was an artisanal blend he had gotten from someone.

Everyone at the table, with the exception of Fries and Selina, were on their second glass while Ed had promptly poured himself a third before Oswald had done so. He was still visibly sober from what Oswald could tell from the corner of his eye.

“You might wanna slow down with the drinks Rubricks’” Zsasz said, not looking up from his hand of cards, “that will creep up on you when you least expect it,” he finished rather ominously, at least that what it sounded like to Oswald’s ears.

Ivy had started to laugh at that when Selina added that she wanted to see how Ed would act absolutely shit faced.

_Abso-fuckin-lutely_   _adorable,_  Oswald’s internal thoughts slurred as Oswald could count on only one hand the times he’d ever seen Edward in the various degrees of being in the haze of alcohol …it wasn’t something that Oswald could forget as much as he lied to himself of wanting to.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Ed leaned over whispering before pulling back with a hiccup. The close contact almost made Oswald jump, a switch going off as he cleared his throat and attempted to bring the attention back to the game, wanting to get it over and declare a winner before anyone’s decision making became impaired or better yet anyone embarrassing themselves with the potential of blackmail material on hand for the year ahead.

The gears started turning, as Oswald’s turn was next.

***

_“ **All that pressure got you down; has your head spinning all around. Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme, come along and have a real good time…** ”_

Oswald was certain that his mouth was hanging open out of disbelief of what he was witnessing (and hearing) as jagged bits of light bounced off of Zsasz’s typical all black ensemble from a disco ball someone had turned on. Disco wasn’t a genre that Oswald would have picked out as something the assassin would have had an affinity for after his renditions of  _I Will Survive_ and  _Staying Alive,_ never once looking at the rigged Karaoke system that was found behind the curtain of the stage courtesy of Ivy and Ecco after they dropped out of the poker game and talk turned to the Bat.

After some peer pressure from the two, Oswald consented to the suggestion of a round of singing, sending security away to man the coffee shop and the alley behind the stage door, giving the remaining rogues some semblance of privacy. Luckily Oswald was feeling more than a little relaxed than usual with the present company.

Besides Zsasz’s disco inferno sets, Oswald was starting to lose track of who was singing what with the exception of Pike’s rendition of  _Sabotage_  that left Oswald’s (and everyone else’s) ears ringing and a  _Life on Mars_ rendition by Ed that almost lulled him to sleep in a good way.

Fries had just returned from the freezer, grumbling something about Zsasz’ current performance of  _Le Freak_ when Ivy hopped up from the table, almost stumbling with Selina weakly trying to stop her as the red head marched up to the stage.

“Alright, Alright, we get it…enough with the seventies. Let someone else have a different decade,” Ivy said louder than necessary, pulling one of her gloves off in the middle of the performance. Zsasz noticeably took a step back from her, dodging her attempt to grab him.

“How about Penguin, hasn’t gone up yet,” Fries suggested to the surprise of everyone given how little he had said over the course of the night.

“Oh no, no, no, I couldn’t, not yet at least,” Oswald responded with a forced laugh.

“But we insist,” Fries continued, receiving conspiratorial looks from everyone but Ed.

“You know freezer burn, for someone I don’t usually get along with, you’re right. We need a break from the Pepper and Z-man show,” Pike remarked with no disagreements from anyone.

Zasaz had sung his share of seventies tunes while Ivy with her girl power selections (with an occasional assist from Selina and Ecco). Fries had an excuse of his helmet that prevented him from singing while after Pike had sang, everyone unanimously agreed that it was okay for her to not go up again…though Oswald suspected she did that on purpose.

Oswald did have a few songs in mind,  _My Way_  in the vein of Sid Vicious,  _Sympathy for the devil or London Calling_ before one did come to mind as everyone started to chant his name to go on stage, but Ed was suspiciously silent, making an excuse that he needed to go to the bathroom as he stood up and left. That almost rubbed Oswald the wrong way, but he let it go as went up to the stage, getting flashbacks to the night he had first inherited the club.

It had been a while since he’d let loose on a stage, he’d might as well make it worth his while as he started to hum the refrain of  _Stand and Deliver._

*******

When he finished, he was met with a smattering of applause and a chant of an encore from Ecco and Ivy of which he declined, preferring someone else to take the stage, suggesting if there were any other takers. Everyone exchanged glances at each other while Selina looked down at her phone, presumably looking at the time, it was getting a bit late and no one wanted to deal with an encounter with the Bat while buzzed…

“I’ll go,” Ed had offered from the wings of the stage, startling Oswald. He wondered how long he was standing there.

He walked over running a hand through his now disheveled hair, stopping only a few feet from Oswald.

“Ummmm sure,” Oswald said, handing the microphone over, fully aware he was dangerously close to the edge of his tolerance levels…it started towards the end of his song.

“You feel it now?” Zsasz asked, sounding very far away along with some chuckles.

“Took Ya long enough,” Ecco added in a fit of giggles.

Ed helped him off the stage as he walked back to the poker table.

“You almost put us to sleep the last time Nygma,” Pike yelled, earning a threatening glare from Oswald, but given the dim lighting, she couldn’t really see, but she could see the face Ed had made as he punched in his song choice.

He moved away, turning his back towards the audience as the distorted tune of an electronic drum beat started to play as he began to move his hips along with the tapping his right foot, channeling his inner rockstar ( _not that he needed any help to do so, he just needed to borrow some of that ego from the Riddler_ ), before turning around sporting a pair of green shutter shades diving into his [selection](https://youtu.be/0FtbpelKago).

“Well that’s an improvement,” Oswald heard Pike comment, almost approvingly while the girls and Zasaz cheered on near the front of the stage also starting to move to the music:

_**"I thought I was a fool for no one**_  
_**Oh baby, I'm a fool for you**_  
_**You're the**_ **king** _**of the superficial**_  
_**And how long before you tell the truth?"**_

Ed locked eyes with Oswald and continued to keep his gaze as he worked the stage… or maybe Oswald had been imaging things as he loosened his tie, it was getting a bit warm sitting there. He was enjoying the music until the moment the floor dropped from under him in a bubbly haze as Ed made his approach towards the poker table as his alcohol tinged thoughts started screaming  _Abort! Abort! Abort!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and subscribing!
> 
> Things of Note:
> 
> 1.) The Ivy presented in this fic is based off of Maggie!Ivy, only she's been blessed with 3.0's powers...hence the gloves mentioned.  
> 2.) This chapter as I was writing it had to be cut short, hence the two parter and the increase of chapters listed.  
> 3.) Never accept any drinks, peace offering or not, from Victor Zasaz kiddos! Os and company had to learn the hard way.


	3. Twenty Four Hours Ago (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selina does some reflecting on Bruce, The Bat and Bruce (again). Meanwhile, Ed is (rightfully) suspicious of the Riddler being...helpful?

**III.**

_( **The Iceburg Lounge** )_

 ONE YEAR AGO

Selina was decidedly dressed down by her standards the morning after poker night in black jeans, a charcoal turtleneck, moto boots and a navy colored pea-coat. Her hair tucked under an oversized beanie and appropriately cat eyed sunglasses that helped with brightness of the morning. The chill of the outdoors left her looking a bit flushed as she had noticed upon stepping into the elevator that lead to the lounge after Penguin’s assistant Penny had informed Selina that he would be in for the day around 9AM to check off a few things for the New Years Eve party that night.

When she stepped off the elevator, a full production was in full swing with no sign of Penny or Penguin anywhere among the florists, the AV crew or caterers. Selina wondered if his poor assistant was on hangover duty after Selina had essentially driven him and Nygma back to the lounge at almost 3AM.

“Miss Kyle. A word.”

She was brought back to the present at the mention of her last name, turning to face Penguin standing in the doorway looking nothing like the disaster he had been a few hours prior, save for the comb-over and the rounded pitch black sunglasses he had on.

“I just stopped by to collect my winnings,”

He made a face at her briefly before telling her to follow him. She could practically see the thunderclouds forming around him as he began to mumble something under his breath that she could not catch.

All else present deliberately ignored them and took caution to stay out of their way now with Penny emerging from the kitchen area and answering the few questions that were being asked by the help. She eventually approached the two with a clipboard in hand and a club logo mug in the other that she had handed off to the Penguin, nodding in greeting before returning to her duties.

A few minutes later, Selina was sitting in one of two guest seats that were across from Penguin’s desk, waiting for the man to speak and remove his sunglasses. He sipped away from the mug that Penny had given him. It smelled strongly of spice, floral and some other component that Selina’s enhanced sense of smell could not identify. Given Penguin’s current state, she guessed it had to have been one of Ivy’s special blends.

With a hum, Penguin sat the mug down on a coaster, starting to speak, his voice sounding a bit raspier than usual: “So you came to collect your winnings?”

“Yep. Who would’ve known a street kid like me could grow up so lucky,” she told him.

“Uh…huh,” he remarked, clasping his gloved hands together, “I think there is another reason why you’ve shown up so early that quite frankly has been bothering me all night,” no telling trace of bluffing in his voice.

Selina straightened up her posture, pulling her glasses off, not missing the slight raise of the man’s eyebrows and twitch of fingers as her more feline instincts involuntarily kicked in. Mentally she had to count backwards from ten to school her features back to a far more neutral mode, “Actually I am here solely for the winnings. Ask Fries the next time you see him,” she explained again, not lying.

While Penguin was preoccupied with Nygma in a secluded corner booth away from the abandoned poker game (doing who knows what), the others were engaged in a sing along session to ‘Sweet Caroline,’

Selina and Fries wound up picking back up a round of poker, discussing what they would do with their winnings and cracking even drier remarks about their extremely buzzed cohorts of the night. At one point in their game, Fries threatened to use his freeze gun on Penguin and Nygma to cool it off or go home when their table had tipped over and caused everyone to stop and look to see what the commotion was about.

“That won’t be necessary, contacting Fries, I believe that you won. You’re not lacking financially these days I hear, so there would be no reason why you would lie about that,” Penguin told her, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal the dark circles under his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose gingerly before putting the glasses back on, “it’s just that I can’t fathom _why_ or _how_ the Bat knows your name.”

“What?” Selina said, her toes curling within her boots, wondering exactly how lucid Penguin had been on the short ride from Umbra to the lounge, “You know that everyone calls me Cat these days. Ms. Kyle for those hoity-toity types,” she explained, finishing off with a well-practiced airy laugh.

“They called you Selina… _Cat_ ,” Penguin flatly told her, “The Bat let us go unscathed for once.”

Selina narrowed her eyes as two things occurred to her. The first being that he suspected that she knew who was the “ _new terror_ ” of Gotham’s underworld and _secondly_ she would owe Fries a bit of her winnings as it was obvious that nothing else had happened between Penguin and Nygma once she deposited the two back at the lounge after intervening a possible confrontation the two had with The Bat, “My name is public record, anyone can look it up, besides you should be thankful I even stopped the two of you from pissing the weirdo off any further. If anything, you shouldn't have called your people off for the night,” ( _though Selina was still pretty sure that the wedding dress Nygma had confiscated and had been wearing from an abandoned bridal shop on a last minute dare was enough of a diversion)._

“So I wasn’t imagining things then,” Penguin said, more to himself before changing the topic, “no matter…I said I was offering a cash prize after all, but as I am busy at the moment…PENNY!”

Selina looked over her shoulder to see that his assistant had returned, this time with a tablet in hand, “Yes Mr. Cobblepot?”

“Will you take care of Ms. Kyle and that transfer for me?” he asked Penny, taking another sip from his mug, “oh and one more thing,” now talking to Selina, “tell our old friend _Mr. Wayne_ thank you…I’ll be in touch.”

  ** _(Present Day)_**

At the beginning Selina did not know whom the deranged individual running around the city dressed up as a bat was. With the exception of Brigit and Fries, Jon Crane was the only other person she knew that dressed as their namesake in public. She might have adopted the moniker of _Catwoman,_ but nothing about her nightly attire reflected that. The idea of having literal ears seemed a bit much. Only blurry photos and artist renderings of The Bat were published in the Gazette from accounts of citizens and criminals.

It was only when she had her first run in with the mysterious vigilante that she noticed his style of fighting that on a subconscious level lead her drive out to Wayne Manor a few days later, only to find it unoccupied. The second time happened after she had collected her winnings from the previous year’s poker night. She left disappointed again, only finding the still emptied manor marred with the remains of smoke and ash, the results of a parting “gift” from Jeremiah.

As the sightings and clashes with the Bat increased, Selina couldn’t shake the away the feeling that Bruce was under the cowl, though there were no actual sightings of him. His company had a major presence in the city, but the only face associated with it had been Lucius Fox.

Everyone had their own theory as to who was under the cowl, even the rogues had their own theories, but Bruce Wayne was _not_ one of them. Most assumed he had fled along with the well to do once the bridges had blown, but he hadn’t. He had stayed behind, helping with efforts in the Green Zone and helping with her recovery during a particularly dark time she never wanted to dwell upon again.

Bruce was always behind the scenes, trying to blend in, making sure no attention was drawn upon him unless Harvey needed to crack a joke to break the more worrisome moments when morale began to slip. It continued on this way until the Green Zone became critically compromised from a series of attacks. All efforts became increasingly focused on getting help from the mainland and rallying all sectors in the hunt for Jeremiah as it turned out it wasn’t just the Green Zone that had been hit, but other areas as well, forcing many of the warring factions to unify for a common cause.

Selina herself wanted the honor of disposing the Valeska twin with her bare hands while Bruce naïvely wanted to bring the young man in himself to face justice for his crimes and find a cure to Jerome’s toxin. This point of contention was just one of the wedges that drove the two further away from each other. They both had the same end goal in mind, but their methods in reaching it clashed too much.

In the end, pure irony would wrench their desired resolutions away from them, as a completely unhinged Ecco was the one who had the final role in pushing Jeremiah to his supposed death. It also did not help that Bruce had handcuffed Selina to a rail once they had found Jeremiah’s hideout, leaving her behind until Gordon and Lee had shown up, but by the time they had reached them, it was too late.

When she decided she needed to have a talk with Bruce about their experience that day, she was still livid. She wasn’t expecting a four-alarm fire at the manor with an injured Alfred being dragged out by Bruce to the front lawn.

She wasn’t expecting that when the medevac had taken the two away to a different hospital that would be the last time she would see either of them…or so she thought for a few years when The Bat appeared.

As his notoriety began to grow among the upper classes and the underworld, so did Selina’s curiosity (and concern) with all the speculations. When Penguin had off handedly inferred that he too believed that Bruce was under the cowl, Selina knew she needed to tread cautiously in spite of the manor still being abandoned that winter…

…Until Bruce himself showed up in public at an event that summer in a bright red Maserati with two models in tow that caution for Selina was overridden by curiosity. He became the talk of the town for better or worse…worse in Penguin’s books when Bruce politely declined a “Welcome Home,” celebration at the lounge a few weeks later after his public re-appearance.

Selina for the most part decided to stay out of way during the day, but nights were different, as she wondered how far she could push this unspoken game of theirs with her knowing his secret that she knew he thought she did not.

One very recent night, she had broken into the home of a well-known socialite who was known for their controversial views on animal testing when it came to makeup. They were planning on launching a line of their own through the local department chain Shreck’s. For once Selina wasn’t looking for valuables but rather information on formulas.

This night she preferred to not be bothered by The Bat, but when he did make his appearance, he simply told her _enough_. The way he had said it to her, something snapped within her. A feeling she had long repressed came roaring back to life.

He managed to avoid her attacks, blocking every kick and lash of hand until she gained the upper hand by going low with her bullwhip; tripping him and snatching the stolen USB drive out of his hand before he grabbed one of her ankles. At this point Selina was more than annoyed as she lashed at him with one of her clawed gloves, striking him along the face, leaving a window of time to escape out the balcony terrace.

Did she overreact? Possibly. Did she regret it? Not so much…

Did it feel like part of the marbled flooring she stood upon gave out when she saw Bruce again, this time in public at the Gotham Humane Society’s winter Gala with Silver St. Cloud as his plus one, small bandages where she had struck him on the face? Almost.

Did she need more of the complementary champagne being offered? She swiped a whole bottle on her way out much to the concern of her own plus one that night, Lee.

  *******

“ _OFFICIALS SAY THAT THE ESCAPEE REMAINS AT LARGE AND URGES CITIZENS TO STAY AWAY AND NOT INTERACT WITH THE INDIVIDUAL IF YOU SEE THEM. PLEASE CALL THE LOCAL AUTHORITIES. IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED THAT CITIZENS STAY INDOORS AFTER DARK AND REMAIN VIG-”_

“I think we’ve heard enough of that this afternoon haven’t we Isis?” Selina asked her cat who was sitting curled up in her lap as she finished up the gray silken wraps she had bound around both of her arms, down to her knuckles, concealing the pair of brass knuckles she had put on upon hearing the news. Her nails were already perfectly manicured, each filed to a fine point that would have even impressed Fish Mooney.

Given that Selina had plans to attend another year of poker night later on, there was no need of her to pull on her gloves for the night in the event she ran into the maniac. She was already prepared.

That whole morning she found herself getting lost in the various scenarios where she pictured her long over due revenge, mostly involving her stabbing Jeremiah repeatedly with no interference from The Bat…or Bruce, as she would have found a way to restrain him or handcuffed him, leaving Selina to finish off what should have been done before, something she knew that Bruce couldn’t do, much like when they were kids and she had pushed Reginald Payne out of a window.

 

**_(The Factory District)_ **

“ **Wakey, Wakey** ,” a familiar voice whispered closely in Edward’s ear, stirring him out of his sleep with four things registering:

 

  _1._ _The sun was unusually bright for a winter afternoon by Gotham’s standards._

_2.He had definitely overslept._

_3\. It was still a bit drafty in the industrial “apartment” he had kept on a retainer; he’d need to do something about that and soon._

_4\. His other source of annoyance/torment, the Riddler sounded suspiciously excited…as he had been lately when it came to Ed’s personal life, something that he NEVER took an interest in unless it was a direct conflict of self-preservation._

 

Ed righted himself up from his bed, a proper iron wrought frame this time around, before rubbing his eyes and reaching for his dark green semi-rimless glasses on his nightstand per his normal routine.

A small matte obsidian colored box that his hand landed on was not.

“ **Surprise,** ” the Riddler remarked, standing at the foot of the bed, his green suit looking brighter than usual with the sun haloing behind him.

Ed blinked a few more times, his shade still not going away but rather waiting expectantly for Ed to open the small box he definitely did not remember having. Looking over at the other side of the bed, he found that his glasses were on the other nightstand.

“ **You can ignore me all you want, but you know why I’m still here** ,” the Riddler commented.

In the past Ed would have thrown something, yelled or even pleaded for the Riddler to leave him be, but ever since he accepted that they were one and same, they worked symbiotically with minor complications every once in awhile whenever a scheme did not go according to plan, but for the most part the Riddler managed to gain a respectable notoriety that his moniker wasn’t something laughable as it had been in the early days.

This relative “peace” even continued for some time when The Bat had shown up on the scene. It wasn’t until Ed had awoken the morning after the previous year’s poker night feet first in bed in an ill fitting wedding gown over his undershirt and trousers to find Oswald next to him, head first, moaning about the brightness of his bedroom and the explosion of chiffon in his face that the real issues started up again.

“Then why bother?” Ed asked point blank, putting on his glasses with one hand while the other held the box, weighing heavily in his hand.

With a haughty laugh the Riddler continued, “ **All I’m trying to do is put us all out of our miseries with you and our feathered friend’s dance of denial,” he finished, “ _do you even know how exhausting that even is?_** ” The fact that he said ‘ _our_ ’ friend had caught Ed’s attention. The Riddler didn’t have friends. Associates, yes. Friends? No. Not that Ed himself could comment on that.

In a blink of an eye, his shade had made himself comfortable on the empty side of the bed stretched out, hands behind his head, eyes closed, “ **Quite frankly you’ve made things _very very very_ awkward to work with the guy...I’ve long accepted where _I_ stand with _The Penguin_ but _you and Oswald_? Completely laughable. I mean the fact that you went to Tompkins with your epiphany…defeats the whole purpose of telling _HIM_.**”

“I think Oswald and I have sufficiently hashed out our differences. He made it clear that night in the infirmary that he missed us as friends. That’s what we’ve been working towards thus far,” Ed retorted, reflecting on the time that he thought he had truly lost Oswald.

They had been caught in the crossfire during an all out assault lead by an army of Strange’s enhanced soldiers lead by one of Jim Gordon’s former army pals, Eduardo Dorrance (a man whom Ed thought to be a younger version of the former Captain Barnes post Tetch Virus) who had gotten it in his head to somehow enforce brute law and order upon the city with Strange’s help while they were still trying to recover from Valeska’s previous reign of "ordered" anarchy, not that that stopped Ed in any shape or form. It was during this stand off that Oswald once again tried to protect Ed, which ended up costing him part of his eyesight…

“ **You and Ivy are friends. You and Tompkins are friends. You and Fox are friends, though I use the word _friend_ very loosely for those last two, hell I’d even throw in that kid Kyle for good measure**.”

“Selina isn’t a kid, she’s in her twenties now.”

“ **As I was saying _EDWARD,_ I don’t recall you ever leaving a hickey on any of your friends**,”

“Technically-”

“ ** _No_**. **Just no, Ed. That was a mistake. I didn’t think you really believed me about being _in love_ with Lee. It’s called sarcasm. I wasn’t literally talking about her then. I thought you’d picked up on that. Why do you think I even convinced you to even go back to Arkham then hmmmm?**”

“Self preservation,” Ed simply stated pushing out that memory of his fragile state of mind then and the heavy rope in hand.

The Riddler let out a long sigh at this, rolling over with an elbow propped up on the bed, “ **Of course…but _WHY_?**” he asked with an unsettling wide smile.

Ed looked away, for a moment, the small box still unopened. He did talk his way through to get to the answer to this the night before with Lee aloud after months thinking about it when he couldn’t sleep in the confines of his cell during his recent stint at Arkham…the answer eluding him until now…

_It was the reason why Ed noticed that he became irrationally jealous whenever Jim visited the lounge on the occasional official (and unofficial) GCPD visits. Most recently it had been when Selina had dropped him off and ended up causing a scene this time around, only to be unceremoniously kicked out by a completely stressed out Oswald._

_It was the reason why he had planned a heist around a performance of Giselle that may or may not have included holding a popular dancer in the role of Albrecht hostage for being too flirty with Oswald when the visiting ballet troupe of the show had stopped by the lounge a few days earlier following opening night._

_It was the same reason why he respected Oswald’s wishes that they not talk about what happened at Poker Night as the other man had yet to the see mark on the crook of his neck in the vanity mirror in the adjacent bathroom._

_It was the same reason he kept the stolen photograph Ivy had taken of him and Oswald in the alleyway of the Umbra café looking every bit the parody of a newlywed couple at the end of the night of an open bar reception. All that was missing was a top hat for Oswald._

_It was the reason why sometimes an accident would occasionally befall an upstart attempting to dethrone Oswald without him ever hearing about it._

_It was the same reason why time and time again that Ed/the Riddler found himself dragged into a business meeting or scheme with Oswald/The Penguin and vice versa._

_It was the same reason he agreed with Oswald to be friends again back in the infirmary…_

_It was the reason why Ed reluctantly joined Oswald along with the GCPD (temporarily) to stop Bane and his attempted hostile takeover…_

_It was the same reason neither really left the other’s side for hunting down Strange for messing with Ed’s head upon re-animation..._

_It was the same reason Oswald's words came back to him much too late when Lee had turned on him in his previous life..._

_It was the same reason why he never gave Oswald up to Sofia and her goons…_

_It was the same reason why he helped to rescue Martin…_

_It was the same reason why he broke Oswald out of Arkham…_

_It was the same reason why Lee had compared Ed’s opening act at Cherry’s to that of a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails…_

_It was the same reason why he couldn’t pull the trigger on Oswald when he was unfrozen…_

_…The same reason why he couldn’t get Oswald out of his head when he thought he was dead the first time by his hand…_

“ **Besides, I saved you the trouble going forward** ,” the Riddler finished with a yawn as Ed opened the box to reveal a simple platinum band, polished and exquisitely classic.

When Ed looked over, his shade was no longer there, but a knowing grin had taken over Ed’s own initial confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay. But thanks for still hanging in there and reading and reviewing.
> 
> I tried to make this chapter a bit longer due to how long it took me to complete this (and disregard current cannon) and hopefully clear up a few things...as the next chapter is....THE DAY OF THE PARTY! (and the hunt for Jeremiah continues)
> 
> As I wrote this chapter, I've considered the possibility eventually of writing separate one offs about The Gala and The Heist that were mentioned (as I found myself wanting to expand upon it in the main fic but didn't want to get too carried away). Possibly after the main fic has been completed...but I digress. 
> 
> Reviews and Kudos are greatly appreciated.


	4. The Day Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy has a plan. Jim keeps up with a monthly appointment and a familiar face emerges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Chapter Warning: Mention of character death & VERY brief cannon (& comic) typical violence.****

**IV.**

**_(Pepper Gardens, Formerly Radcliffe Manor)_ **

 

“ _Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun…”_

The singing voice of George Harrison drifted room to room from an old portable radio as Ivy hummed along, moving about her greenhouse. Vines and branches moved out of her way and snaked elsewhere as she moved with all the grace of a ballerina as she checked up on her babies.

It had been the fourth day in a row that saw no cloud coverage, a rarity for the city, but the temperature outside, unlike the artificial tropics of the literal greenhouse, had been brisk. Ivy had insulated the greenhouse first a few years ago, followed by her bedroom and bathroom. She had yet to reach the other eight rooms (kitchen included) of her admittedly shabby estate. It might not have had the stately reputation of a Wayne Manor or the Victorian charms of a Van Dahl, but her home was still hers.

“There you are gorgeous,” Ivy cooed as she made her way to the center of the room where on a metal table a terra cotta pot housed an unusually large cluster of an un-bloomed flower.

Above the pot hung a UV lamp of which the cord had been bound with thick stems of Ivy. One of the un-bloomed buds began to tilt towards Ivy, almost sentient in nature as the bud began to quiver, its petals unfurling to reveal an iridescent sheen under the UV light. A heady scent escaped from it with no adverse effects on Ivy, considering what the plant had been treated with over time. The flower that Ivy had been cultivating was a left over from a commission by Penguin for the previous year’s party.

He hadn’t requested another for this year’s events, but with she was certain he was reeling from the news of Valeska’s escape. Luckily for him, Ivy had taken the initiative in sneaking a few buds of her pet project into a few of the floral arrangements that were sent to the lounge for the party…. after some persuading of Penguin’s assistant Penny:

"We’re going to have so much fun tonight!” Ivy remarked as she held onto the bloomed bud in her hand, marveling at the dark magenta colored flower. The excitement she had in this moment was more than what she felt from the night before at poker night.

The general mood then was far more subdued from the shenanigans of the previous year. It also did not help that the venue had been changed from the Umbra Café (and speakeasy) to a sublevel floor at the Lounge while all hands were on deck above them making preparations for _the party of the year_ in what would be one of the last to be held for the current iteration of the Iceburg. Ground had broken in the diamond district for a much more ambitious version to look like its namesake.

Glaringly, Ecco was amongst the missing at the table. Ivy had called and texted the young woman to no avail. The calls went straight to voicemail while texts went unanswered. When she awoke in the morning there was still radio silence on Ecco’s end. Ivy distinctly recalled Selina telling her in passing that Ecco could handle herself, even though Ivy hadn’t voiced her concerns at any point. The escape of Valeska was on the back of everyone’s mind, but no one said a word about it as if saying his name would have conjured up some ghoulish scraggily haired boogey man in purple.

Instead, the talk of the night had been about the Bat and everyone’s run-ins with the guy over the past year. No story was as amusing as the aviary incident Penguin had mentioned from the previous year. Fries’ was a close second for this year, his tale about freezing one of the Bat’s feet as he narrowly escaped one of Wayne Tech Labs. Selina kept mum and most of Zasaz’s jobs were out of town while Maggie, she had been fresh out of Blackgate for three weeks and was only at poker night because she needed money for supplies.

Ivy didn’t have a Bat related story to tell, as she was too busy finishing up her first year of botanical biochemistry studies at Gotham university under an assumed name, Pamela Isley. Unlike the year before, Ivy was taking poker night a bit more seriously to cover her tuition costs. It almost paid off, but Zasaz came through victorious at the last minute.

Everyone groaned at this when Fries had stated that the night hadn’t gotten sidetracked as it did the year before. Ivy mentioned that was only because Ecco and Ed weren’t present.

“ _It’s probably why Penguin’s in a tizzy_ ,” Zasaz commented with everyone agreeing to an extent.

Thankfully Penguin had to excuse himself halfway through the game to deal with more pressing matters above them. His departure managed to relive some of the tension in the room of poker players.

Selina had texted Ivy prior to inform her to not mention Ed to Penguin. Apparently he had caused a scene when Selina had dropped him off at the lounge from Arkham. The “ _good captain_ ” was there at the lounge discussing something with Penguin. After Gordon left, the two had a heated exchange, which ended up with Ed leaving visibly frustrated. So Ivy made no mention of him, nor did anyone else for that matter…while Penguin was in the room with them anyway.

It was after Zasaz’s observation that the man pushed a fourth of his winning chips into the center of the table with all eyes on him: “ _Hate to point out the obvious…but those two really need to get their shit together_.”

“ _Amen to that_ ,” Selina said under her breath, but loud enough for Ivy to hear.

“ _So I have a proposal to make things more interesting tomorrow_ ,” Zasaz continued, “ _I’m gonna take bets that by the end of the night, those two will have left the party early_ ,” he didn’t elaborate any further, figuring that everyone could read between the lines…and the possibility that Penguin could have walked back into the room at any given moment, “ _If I’m right, I’ll split those combined winnings. If I’m wrong, any naysayer can split the winnings amongst themselves…but I’m one hundred percent sure I’m right._ ”

“ _I’m In_ ,” Ivy said, sliding only a twenty near the pile of chips, “ _broke college student_ ,” she explained as everyone looked at her.

“ _Guess I’m in too_ ,” Selina said with a roll of the eyes, placing two one hundred dollar bills with Ivy’s twenty.

Fries silently offered a fifty.

The last hold out at the table had been Maggie: “ _What? Don’t you look at me like that, not like I’m particularly rooting for the guy, he shot me that one time…_ ”

" _Then why are you here? Why’d you accept the invite for tonigh_ t,” Selina asked, examining her nails.

“ _Free drinks and money. Isn’t that why you’re all here_?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“ _Can’t really argue with that_ ,” Zasaz said with a raised glass in agreement.

Ivy looked at the flower in her hand once more, “and you my dear are the key to winning that bet,” a devious smile forming.

 

  ** _(Gotham Memorial Lawns)_**

 

Once a month Jim would make his visit to the memorial lawns to replace an arrangement of Hydrangeas and Red Carnations for Barbara’s headstone. Occasionally Lee would go with him, but mostly he did this on his own.

This month, however, had proven to be busier than usual leaving no room to visit, until now, sans arrangement. He stood in front of her headstone, immediately noticing that someone had beat him to it, a fresh bouquet placed in the built in vase, though he wasn’t sure as to whom as he glanced around, collar turned up on his new camel colored wool coat the precinct had gifted him for Christmas. With a sigh he looked down, reading the engraving:

  **FIGHTER, MOTHER, HERO**

She lived her life, falling into those very three things, but she was still a complicated figure at the end of it all. One would have thought that her past would have finally caught up to her or her heroic actions in the last stand of Gotham, but it was a car crash of all things.

Jim had lost his father in a similar manner…though for the sake ( _and safety_ ) of their daughter Babs, he made the difficult decision to not dig any further into the circumstances surrounding the accident.

In the first few weeks he adjusted to the changes of his routine, Harvey and Lucius did tell Jim that maybe there weren’t any ulterior motives involved. Maybe the accident was just that. He wanted to accept that reasoning, but he struggled with accepting it.

When it came time for the reading of the will, the only ones present had been him, Selina, Lee ( _whom he hadn’t actively spoken to in some time, except for the occasional doctor visits regarding Barbara, since she had left him with a deserved slap to the face_ ) and strangely enough, Edward Nygma.

The will turned out to be a pre-recorded video Barbara had recorded sometime before the stand off with Strange & Bane. She had joked in the video that if they were watching this video, she was more than likely dead…for now. She explained that she would be splitting her fortunes between Selina and Babs, of which Jim would only have access to a fourth of Babs’ inheritance.

The real shocker to Jim, however, had been when she had named Lee and Edward as _Godparents_.

Selina even seemed a bit surprised at that as well, but the other two didn’t seem _as_ shocked.

Barbara had even gone out of her way to even comment on the video that Jim might be having an aneurysm at that very moment at that last request, but she assured Jim that she had her reasons for picking them, especially in a city like theirs.

Jim knew he hadn’t treated Barbara fairly. He could have tried harder to be more of a presence in her life during those months, as he later learned that Selina, Lee and Ed were somewhat of constants for her during her pregnancy and a bit after ( _whether they liked it or not_ ). Maybe his initial assessment of her when he found out she had sought out Lee to be her physician had been much harsher than it needed to be. It was probably why she didn’t seek him out except out of necessity.

In his mind, at the time, protecting the city and getting Gotham back up on her feet had been the first step in ensuring that their daughter had a fighting chance. Eventually he had to thank Lee for the tough love about being civil with Barbara, after Babs was born.

Jim and Barbara’s relationship was shaky at best and eventually it tempered out. They could tolerate each other at best without resorting to barbs or slights. Even looking back, in those days leading up to the accident, Barbara did seem to be more sentimental than usual over the phone as they went over Babs’ visits for the week, bringing up the days when they first dated and where they ended up. A lot of their conversations circled around that topic.

_“The great James Gordon…being so sentimental, who would've thought we would have seen the day.”_

The ghostly figure of Barbara Kean appeared within Jim’s mind’s eye, sitting on her headstone, legs dangling over the stone leaning forward towards him with sly amusement on her face dressed in a shimmering gold gown.

_“While I appreciate your visits, you shouldn’t beat yourself up for not visiting…especially not now…you’ve got a clown to catch…captain.”_

  ** _(Overlook Roadside Inn, Room 237)_**

****

_“As authorities widen their search for the escaped Arkham patient, Jeremiah Valeska, local businesses are opting to change their operational hours for New Years Eve, with most shutting their doors to ring in the new year safely, all except for the Iceburg Lounge, owned by former city mayor Oswald Cobblepot,”_ The news anchor stated on the black and white television screen as the scene switched from the studio to the inside of a lobby of a building where reporters had surrounded a pale looking man in a dark suit and hair that seemed to defy gravity:

“ _Mr. Cobblepot, isn’t it true that you’re still going to be in operation tonight? Local officials have already canceled celebrations in Gotham Square, aren’t you a bit concerned about the safety of your patrons?_ ”

“ _While I understand the concern,_ _I do intend to host celebrations tonight. This city has gone through worse before and this very establishment remained opened because the people needed a break, an escape, which is why I intend to move forward with the event_.”

“ _You mean when the lounge was under the name of Sirens?_ ” one reporter corrected.

“ _Yes_ ,” Cobblepot responded with gritted teeth and a stare that caused some of the reporters to step away. The scene soon switched back to the news studio where the anchor seemed amused by short interview:

“ _There you have it folks, if you have no plans now, the doors to the lounge are open to you_ … _Rick? Any plans yourself?”_

 _“No plans except for me, the dog, the wife and our yearly marathon of that_ _kitschy classic_ ‘Love That Baby’ _Angela.”_

_“Wow, now that’s a blast from the past. I’ve always wondered what happened to that actress.”_

_“Right?”_ The anchor, Rick, chuckled before going onto the next story _, “In other news, Billionaire Bruce Wayne was recently seen about town with socialite Silver St. Cloud promoting a new literacy program being launched in the new year in partnership with the socialite. When asked his partnership, he responded that he was only supporting a cause that he believed in.”_

The screen then changed to said Billionaire outside of city hall, cornered by a small horde of reporters wrapped up in winter wear looking slightly different from the lean young man in all black as the person watching the newscast in the motel room sat up in the bed they were laying in, now watching with rapt attention, the comforter wrapped around them slipped down their shoulders, eyes widening as something clicked.

The man on the television seemed to have gotten bigger, face a bit fuller, sturdier, taller possibly, but he recognized that face…that face with the windswept hair that would appear time to time in this thoughts, in his far more lucid moments before the drugs or mania would wash over him. Sometimes when he dreamed in the bed that he spent part of his days in confinement surrounded by stonewalls and a thick Plexiglas wall with holes cut into them.

On occasion he would wonder what the room was originally used as before it became a converted cell. A twin-sized bed was bolstered to the floor on one side while a toilet/sink set up was on the other side. An affixed bench and table built into the wall were near the entrance. It was here that his meals and meds were delivered once he got better from months of recovery after his accident ( _that was all anyone would tell him_ ) and regained use of his limbs, though most days he remained in a sluggish haze from the meds he suspected had been put in his food.

At some point, someone thought he was docile enough to begin therapy sessions with a Doctor Leeland, two guards never far from her but far enough from him, that whatever he was willing to share with her could only be heard by her, which wasn’t much, as he was still trying to piece together the blank parts of his memory.

Other times he’d be given jumbo crayons and stock paper to draw on. Nothing sharp, and dull enough to not pose a threat of any sorts. He wasn’t allowed to keep any of these items in his cell just yet. He needed to find a way to convince the doctor of having that privilege.

Recently he began to notice that Dr. Leeland had brought another doctor along with her, a blonde who had her hair pulled into a severe bun and a pair of red oversized glasses, much like the brown ones he had worn in another life. This un-named doctor had only accompanied Dr. Leeland after a previous session when he had told her that he remembered that his name was Jeremiah. He wasn't the John Doe everyone had addressed him by.

He remembered from that session that he could see through the blonde’s naivety and fear, as he would look occasionally over at her while speaking to Dr. Leeland.

The last time he had a session, the un-named doctor wasn’t present:

“ _Mr. Wayne, Mr. Wayne! You’ve been spotted with Ms. St. Cloud at various events lately. Are the two of you seeing each other?”_ One pesky reporter on the television screen asked. Bruce appeared to visibly stiffen.

“ _No. We’re seeing each other as friends with mutual philanthropic interests. Thank you, no more questions please_ ,” he responded, pushing past reporters, Alfred not far behind, the footage cutting back to the studio.

“ _Well, people can only speculate Rick.”_

“ _Right Angela. I_ -”

“Oooops.”

The motel TV screen was now cracked, television static filling the screen as the remote landed with a thud on the dated looking carpet. Jeremiah’s fingers twitched from the sudden outburst. He had been mulling over Bruce’s statement of “being friends with mutual interests,” with this St. Cloud character.

He ran a hand through his newly outgrown locks, now a bottle green, before pulling his hands down his newly unblemished face, free of chemical burns but still retaining the chalky parlor. He was frowning now when the door to his room opened and his former assistant, Ecco stepped in with a clear garment bag in hand, frowning in return as she saw the broken screen.

Her once messy honey blonde victory rolls and equally messy makeup as he last remembered her by had been replaced by two top knots piled high to the top of her head, now a rose-gold color, natural roots starting to show. She was plain faced, barely a hint of gloss on her lips and plainly dressed wearing a boxy beige winter coat, an owl shaped brooch pinned to her, the only real hint of pizzazz about her.

She appeared normal, sane possibly, based on his very few interactions he had with her in the past twenty-four hours. The scar she once had near the nape of her neck appeared to be gone, but the sane ( _yet rapidly waning_ ) part of him doubted that she fully was since she did break him out with some help.

He didn’t have much energy to try and test her again like he did after he had taken a bath she had drawn for him while he slept off the remaining sedative she had injected him with before escaping Arkham. It was after this bath that he noticed that he looked and felt different than he had for the past five (as Ecco had explained) years.

Apparently she was prepared as to how he was going to react when he emerged from the bathroom, she was able to quickly overtake him when he tried to grab her by the throat, only to receive a solid kick in the leg to throw off his balance and a head butt that made him see stars as his head connected with one the walls of the motel. When he came to, he was handcuffed.

It wasn’t long ago that said handcuffs were finally removed.

At present Jeremiah plopped back down on his back in a huff on the motel bed. He over heard Ecco curse under her breath about the TV set, dropping the garment bag next to him. Eyeing it, there appeared to be a plum colored tux inside of it: “A gift? For Me? You really shouldn’t have… _puddin_ ’” he added, seeing how unmoved Ecco was as she went about straightening up his mess.

“I didn’t do anything for you. The people who orchestrated your release did. They think…” Ecco paused.

 _Ah-ha, there it is,_ he thought, hearing the uncertainty in her voice, as a Cheshire grin started to form as he set his sights on the popcorn ceiling of the room.

“ _They_ think it’s time for you to fulfill your destiny,” she tells him, dropping a black envelope on his chest, breaking him out of his thoughts, as he sat up glaring at Ecco.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning the unmarked envelope over, a purple metallic sticker of an umbrella kept it sealed shut.

“Destiny,” was all Ecco offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maggie=Magpie & I just wanted to bring back the bad*** Ecco of S4 we were teased with...but there's more to her story to follow...in this fic that is.
> 
> Next Time: IT'S SHOWTIME FOLKS.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, reviewing, kudos'ing, bookmarking, and being so patient with the admittedly sporadic updates. It's greatly appreciated.


	5. The Night Of (Part One)

**V.**

**_(Gotham International Airport, Lucius)_ **

****

In his time working for Wayne Enterprises and the GCPD, Lucius Fox was never the type to ask for much. It was the reason why no one ever really complained _(well, maybe Harvey and occasionally the Riddler whenever that guy needed an audience to boast)_ when Lucius took his vacation during the last week of the year and the first two weeks of the new one.

He enjoyed his time visiting family, seeing his father, his brother and sister, and all the nieces and nephews. Lucius even enjoyed the various cousins who showed up to Christmas dinner and the few still living aunts and uncles, even if he had to dodge the occasional, _‘why haven’t you found a nice girl to settle down with,’_ or the occasional, _‘have you ever met the penguin or riddler?’_ questions. What he _did_ enjoy the most had been the warm climate Florida had to offer.

This year had been the first time the family had decided to meet at an amusement park resort instead of the family home. Lucius had been standing in line with one of his nieces at OllivandersTM, when his smart watch had buzzed with a message he had barely glanced at, hesitant to go back and read it as he _was_ on vacation. Soon his phone started to vibrate, earning a glare from his niece as they were within the threshold of the themed shop, a robed park employee wondered if they were even going to enter. Lucius gave his niece a sympathetic look as he pulled his phone out from his pocket, seeing BRUCE WAYNE flash across the screen; a candid photo of said young man accompanied the caller ID profile. Had it been anyone else, he would have ignored it, but given Bruce’s persistence in calling, he had a feeling it wasn’t related to the day job.

Lucius stepped to the side of the shop, keeping a close eye on his niece as she abandoned him in favor of going directly to the counter to create her own magical wand: “Bruce. I take that the holidays treated you well.”

“You could say that. I’m sorry for bothering you like this, and I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t important.”

“I believe you,” Lucius told him as he saw that his niece was pointing towards him for the park employee. It appeared she had taken two wand bases and the employee wanted to confirm that she was accompanied, “What seems to be the issue,” he asked before sending a series of hand gestures towards the employee and niece.

“Jack has gotten out of the box.”

 _Oh,_ Lucius thought, halting his non-verbal cues stilling as he processed the coded message Bruce had relayed to him.

“All hands are on deck here…its been quiet… _for now_ , but I think we could use your help…if things go sideways,” Bruce explained, voice going unusually quiet towards the end, “I can have things arranged so that you’ll be here and back in no time.”

 

…Which was how Lucius ended up on a private flight back to Gotham with only his carryon bag, a puffer coat and a newly acquired Ravenclaw scarf draped around his neck, spotting a formally dressed Alfred amongst the holiday travel hub-bub in the arrivals area.

“My apologies Mr. Fox, but Mr.Wayne couldn’t join you at the moment, he is expecting to receive you at the townhome…extra precaution recommended by our sterling police department.”

“None needed. I just need to be filled in as to what part I’m playing in all of this.”

“A consultant more than anything…extra pair of ears at the party. ”

“Party? You mean Penguin’s?”

“Quite,” Was all Alfred offered, there was no mention of that unless this was all part of some coordinated plan, “I take you were able to review those files?”

He had, thinking how it had self-corrupted after viewing the contents on the plane. He would definitely be picking Bruce’s brain about that at a later time, but primarily the bigger question was how he was able to obtain footage from one of Jeremiah Valeska’s “therapy sessions.” Regardless of Lucius’ cool demeanor on the outside, the last bit of the footage did un-nerve him just a little, and it wasn’t just Jeremiah’s damaged skin and the unnaturally chemical green irises that peered out of the permanently blackened rings around them; it had been what he told the doctors that bothered him.

The topics during the footage progressed from the usual surface inquires of ‘how are you feeling today?’ and ‘how do you view yourself?’ to that of the various relationships in his life. Jeremiah didn’t have much to say about his childhood in Haly’s when prompted, nor when he was asked about his mother and Jerome. Lucius did notice that while the younger man’s hands were on the table, they were held in tightly closed fists, which told more than what he said.

Jeremiah briefly mentioned his time in high school oddly, mentioning that experience wasn’t too terrible, his teachers liked him…his peers were decidedly indifferent, but declined to comment on anything else after that regarding college, his eventual freelancing with Wayne Enterprises and especially the circumstances that drove him underground.

 _“Is that all you can recall? Or what you’re willing to share?”_ The younger doctor, Dr. Quinzel asked, ignoring the pointed look Dr. Leeland was giving her. Jeremiah looked away from the two doctors, looking directly up at the hidden camera that had been monitoring the session so far. He only returned his attention back to the doctors when Quinzel persisted with her questioning: “ _What about Bruce Wayne?_ _Is there anything you have to say about him? It seems that you and your brother had a shared fascination with him.”_

The previous apprehension that Jeremiah might have had started to recede as he flattened his palms on the table, fingers splayed out as he closed his eyes to take a deep breath, as if he were recalling a particular memory: “ _I would rather **not** talk about him.”_

 _“He must have meant something to you…a friend possibly?”_ Quinzel pushed on.

 _"NO,”_ he snarled, turning to look at Dr. Leeland as Dr. Quinzel scribbled something down on her notepad.

 _“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in someway Mr. Valeska, it seems that you have some apprehension about…the matter to put it that way…its okay to talk about it. That’s why we’re here.”_ Dr. Quinzel said, switching gears to be more sympathetic.

 _“No…just disappointment,”_ was all he quietly offered after calming down, sounding tired.

 _“In what way Jeremiah?”_ Dr. Leeland asked, wanting him to clarify his statement.

 He was quiet a little bit longer before he followed up: “ That Bru…” he paused, shaking his head a little, _“you know, I used to think that my life was in some ways a tragedy when I was much younger, what with a terrible family upbringing, years of being misunderstood…unrequited affections…blending into the background, never being seen…until one day…I thought I had been...but now…NOW I realize that it wasn’t a tragedy…it was only a comedy in the making…HE was just the final straw.”_

At that Jeremiah lapsed into silence, not meeting the gazes of the two doctors, instead he seemed to be thinking over what he had said, as small satisfied smile forming, humming initially before his quiet laughter that bubbled up grew louder and more unhinged than what his brother could ever muster up. It was at this point that Dr. Leeland and Dr. Quinzel had stepped away from the view of the camera, the footage corrupting.

 

**_(Nouveau Clock Tower and Residences, Selina)_ **

 

Ed was up to something.

Selina noticed it when she caught him looking at something in his pocket, doing a terrible job of trying to appear casual as he sat waiting on the chaise lounge in her apartment.

He already had her on high alert when he essentially broke in after sneaking into the building via a service elevator. He wasn’t wearing anything that drew attention to his self for once, opting for a dark olive colored suit and an even darker plum colored party tie.

“You’re gonna end up with a sliced face one of these days if you keep breaking into places,” Selina called out from her bedroom, searching for the perfect pair of shoes to wear with her black sequined party tux she decided to wear for the night.

“That depends on where I’m sliced on the face, I could use it to my advantage, I could be a certified super villain then,” Ed called back.

 _Dork,_ Selina thought as she strolled right back into the spacious living room of the penthouse apartment. She caught Ed holding something small and square again before he quickly put it away in his inner jacket pocket, upon hearing Selina drop one of her shoes on the ground (on purpose). It was enough that he insisted on going to the party with her and Ivy, since Selina did get an official invite and not one of the many promotional fliers she had seen littered around the city.

Ed reasoned that if he went as Selina’s plus one, there wouldn’t be any issues of him being let in due to his very valid concern of having a revoked invitation as a result of his antics a few days ago. Given the running bet that he (and Oswald) were oblivious to, Selina was more than happy to oblige his request.

“Will Ms. Pepper be joining us?” Ed asked Selina as she started to put a foot into one of her shoes.

“She’s going to meet us there.”

“Perfect!” Ed said, glancing at this wristwatch, hopping up, ready to leave.

“Whoa, whoa, there its only eight forty five.”

“Which is why we should be heading out, doors open at nine. It’s going to get crowded quickly considering…” he trailed off.

“It’ll be fine. Just relax. It's more about being fashionably late than early for events like these,” she explained, picking up a remote from the coffee table as some Top 40’s radio station filled the space. Selina continued as she moved now towards and around the kitchen, “besides, its going to be busy to get any decent service and I’m pretty sure Penguin is going to be too preoccupied to make sure we’re taken care of…I mean, pretty sure we’ve ran out of his goodwill for the year as far as free food and drinks goes after last night…so eat up unless you wanna pay an arm and a leg at the lounge,” Selina gestured towards the bottles of sparkling water, a pizza box and what looked to be Thai leftovers, “but you weren’t there last night, so he might make an exception for you.”

She started pulling plates and glasses from the cabinets as Ed reluctantly joined her, sitting down on one of the stools that lined the kitchen island.

“Then we’re going to take a shot each,” Selina added, turning to face Ed as she placed two shot glasses on the table, seeing the look he was giving her, “Oh, come off of it. If anyone needs liquid courage tonight, its you.”

“Says the person trying to do the convincing,” he countered.

Selina didn’t bother responding; instead she snatched the carton of leftovers Ed had been reaching for, claiming it as she ignored the voice in her head sounding much like Barbara Kean agreeing with him.

 

**_(Iceberg Lounge Rooftop, Oswald)_ **

****

Oswald watched as the tendrils of smoke rose and danced away into the night, a slight winters breeze nipped at his nose as he took a contemplative drag from his cigarette. He stood on the rooftop of the building that housed the lounge, above the noise below on the streets, occasionally venturing to glance over with a pair of binoculars to see the crowd forming to get in and alerting the security at the door of those he didn’t want to let in via walkie talkie instructions.

To say that he was simply stressed would be the understatement of the year, though his exterior betrayed none of it. So far, there had been no sight of Valeska or the Bat. No one had alerted him to the trade deal along the docks of going wrong as of yet. No one had been kicked out of the lounge. Edward was under the weather, but Olga hadn’t called with any concerns about the dog at the manor. His assistant had reassured him that the insurance policy for the current lounge was up to date, not to mention the various plain clothes officers from the GCPD rotating in and out of the club as part of their “operation.”

Then there was the issue of _human_ Edward. Oswald had not seen nor heard a peep from the man since their argument at the lounge days ago. Oswald would be lying if he admitted that he _didn’t_ miss having him around for poker night. In fact he would have much rather preferred a quiet night in by a fireplace with his dog, maybe a small gathering of those he could tolerate for more than two hours and some food, spirits, and a few engaging rounds of card games than dealing with what he was currently juggling.

Of course there was no way he could ever replicate the impromptu New Years party that occurred at Ed’s library mere months after the Bane fiasco…it was one of the very few memories Oswald had of the city that he could actually look back upon with some fondness.

Brought back to the present, Oswald took one more glance below with a pair of binoculars, wondering if he would spot a flash of green below, then again, Ed wouldn’t bother with coming in through the main entrance, especially with the number of people trying to get out of the winter chill and into the club. Oswald had replayed the recent argument he had with Ed in his head, wondering if he had been a bit harsh with him more so than usual. He hadn’t meant it really. It was admittedly frustrating being around him since…well since the poker night of the previous year and Ed’s stunt pulled at the Opera House, not quite sure what he was trying to pull…or maybe Oswald did and he just couldn’t believe it for himself. He wasn’t trying to get his hopes up, thinking he was reading way too much into Ed’s motives as of late…but if he _was_ correct…

“Hey boss!”

Oswald turned on his heels to see one of his guards holding the rooftop access doors open, the sound of an electro swing tune playing below spilled out.

“Uh, they’re ready for your opening remarks,” the guard spoke as Oswald approached, the young guard was visibly nervous. They appeared to be new, but they were probably informed of the horror stories from previous guards that interrupted his quiet time…most were largely exaggerated, but it did instill a healthy dose of fear along with the fairly decent benefits package he offered his employees, which was incentive enough to stay.

“Thank you...” he trailed off, waiting for the guard to offer a name.

“Bbb, Brown, Charles Brown sir.”

“Fair enough, can’t have the guests waiting for too long,” Penguin told the guard with a pat on the shoulder as they began to descend down the stairs.

**_(Iceberg Lounge, Harvey)_ **

_Of course it had to have been a dammed masquerade theme_ Harvey irritably thought as he pushed his own flimsy mask up over his head as he hovered near one of the smaller bar areas of the lounge as Penguin finished his opening remarks for the night on the stage.

Maybe it was a side effect of getting older, or maybe on some deeper level he thought this crackpot idea of setting up a sting operation to catch the man who set in motion the _almost_ destruction of the city, was a dangerous idea, but he was sure that for the few party revelers, they had no qualms whatsoever. He recalled that people _still_ partied on when the lounge was under Kean’s management once upon a time a go.

Most of the guests present were provided with a blue, black or silver party mask. A few sported more ornate laser cut masks of their own and peppered through out were those wearing one of the more gaudy masks shaped into the numerals of the year ahead that would be passed out at the Gotham Square celebrations. The masks were the one little detail that Penguin had conveniently left out when he agreed to help Jim one more time for old time’s sake, making Harvey wonder what exactly the mobster was getting out of it.

 _Or_ …maybe Harvey was just a bit annoyed that he couldn’t partake in any of the celebratory drinks being offered by the waiters.

“Harvey?” a woman called his name over the sound of music starting up again.

Slightly confused, Harvey had to scan for the source of the voice when he was able to spot the familiar figure wearing a navy colored off the shoulder party dress squeeze their way through the other guests to where he was standing. He briefly thought that his cover was blown as he checked his watch seeing that his shift for this hour was almost up…that was a saving grace of sorts, ready to get out of the outfit that Harper and Alvarez had cobbled together for him.

 

**_(Iceberg Lounge, Leslie)_ **

****

“Harvey?” Lee automatically called out as she caught him standing off to the side near one of the smaller bar stations in the lounge. She wasn’t sure if it was him at first given how nicely he had cleaned up for the night...a newish gray looking suit and navy tie, slicked back hair and even a trimmed beard, but once he removed his party mask she was correct in thinking it was him.

The last time Lee had seen him dressed like that had been when he was seeing that woman, Scottie, which had been years ago. Leslie wondered how she was doing, that is if she even still lived in the city.

“Lee!” he greeted her with open arms, “surprised seeing you here…didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” he remarked as she slid onto an unoccupied barstool next to him.

“Cabin fever is a real condition,” she teasingly told him after politely declining service from the bartender that had reached them.

“Hey! What if I wanted something.”

“Now Harvey…under normal circumstances you would not be here willingly,” she told him, leaning slightly forward almost conspiratorially.

“You got me there sister,” he said as he looked past her, “Finally, here’s the man of the hour."

Leslie furrowed her brows at that, her mood almost faltering as her heart _almost_ skipped a beat.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that Harv,” Jim said to Harvey at first upon his approach as Leslie had her back towards Jim, “I think Bruce Wayne gets that title.”

Thankfully she had grown her hair back out again so it was easier for her to turn her head to spot Bruce across the room chatting with Penguin without Jim recognizing the _random long haired guest_ at the bar

“Holy sh…”

“Hey Jim!” Leslie interrupted Harvey’s train of thought as she turned around in her seat. Seeing the comical moment of Jim registering that she was sitting there the whole time. Even with the dimmed bluish lighting she could see Jim’s cheeks darken a bit before he responded.

“Uh…hey there Lee...didn’t see you there…you um look great” Jim told her, clearly fumbling with his words.

  _Some things just didn’t change did they,_ she thought.

 

**_(Iceberg Lounge, Bruce)_ **

****

“…No offense was taken. I understand that you’re a very busy man Mr.Wayne,” Penguin told Bruce after he had apologized for the welcome back party decline.

 _The Bat_ would beg to differ, knowing full well of how Penguin responded during one his patrols shortly after that.

“I just felt bad about missing out on the celebration. Though when you announced your plans for the new diamond district venue, I had to make plans to attend at least one party at this venue…and what better party than this one on New Years Eve,” he told the shorter man who clearly appreciated the compliment.

“Well it seems like it’s the only one, so no expense was spared…though I find it mighty brave of you being out and about like this,” Penguin casually remarked, adjusting his party hat

Bruce knew exactly what he was referring to, but tonight he needed to continue being Bruce the Billionaire as long as possible…and for that, he couldn’t be bothered with watching current news, “Brave?” he said in his best confused voice as Penguin pulled Bruce over to the side.

“Oh, you haven't heard…that terror of the town Valeska broke out of Arkham recently…you would think with the _few_ improvements there, security would be one of them,” he laughed off disingenuously to Bruce’s ears.

At that moment a bearded waiter, hair pulled up in a man-bun and startlingly bright green eyes soon appeared out of nowhere blocking both Bruce and Penguin with a tray of champagne, (thankfully) interrupting their conversation: “Compliments of the Lounge,” the waiter said with a slight bow before locking eyes with Bruce. He hadn’t seen anyone with eyes as bright as this waiter since, well since…

“Pretty dull party so far Pengy…not like you,” someone else cut in.

“Ms. Kyle, you made it…and so early too. You remember Mr. Wayne don’t you?” Bruce heard Penguin say beside him as Bruce watched the waiter quickly withdraw and disappear into the crowd, leaving a sequined tuxedoed Selina in their wake, the waiter seemingly taking any other words Bruce might have had along with them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh for this fic (and sadly the show), but not the party. Thanks for reading, reviewing and leaving kudos'.
> 
> Guest Appearance in this Chapter:
> 
> Younger Gothamized Version of Charles Brown...aka...future Kite Man!


	6. The Night Of (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night continues...with the clock getting closer to midnight.

**VI.**

 

**_(Undisclosed Location, Charlie Collins)_ **

****

Sure, his friends and family thought he had possibly grown a second head of sorts when he announced that he would be moving to pursue a music career in Gotham City of all places, but he had assured them all that he would be fine. He knew how to take care of himself.

In truth, he needed a change in scenery from the perpetually sunny Metropolis. His entire life in Metropolis up until this point had always felt unfulfilled. He had an artful soul, but Metropolis did nothing to nurture its full potential. He had always kept a beat up Moleskine journal with him since he was a freshman in high school. The scribbles of poetry and refrains of unfinished songs felt real to him, but even he had to admit that his background was not. He figured moving to another city like Gotham would add some authenticity to those words splattered in ink. That had only been a mere five months ago.

He would call his parents every Sunday to let them know that he was still alive and well. He no longer needed to call his girlfriend with the same updates, as she had broken up with him under the reasoning that he needed to grow up. Only two of his friends knew he was subletting from an apartment in a shady part of town, and he had yet to get a gig. They also knew he worked part time as a waiter in a lounge somewhere in the city. Charlie just left out the specific name: The Iceberg…

“ _Once Janey gets back, what are we going to do with the unfortunate sap back there…he may very well squeal to the bird,”_ a male voice murmured near the front in an oddly affected voice. It reminded Charlie too much of an _My Girl Friday_ type character.

“ _Patience Mistah J_ ,” a woman answered.

When Charlie had been hired, his interviewer had explicitly told him that the pay was slightly above average due to the high risk of occupational hazards. That very warning was coming back to haunt him, as he was currently bound and gagged with a cloth bag over his head.

He had been thrown into his current predicament while on break from the lounge. He was outside near the alley when he tried to stop a random guest in a mask from sneaking in from the service area. He knew something was immediately off when the would-be party crasher’s skin began to crawl and contort upon reaching for their wrist. He was so thrown into shock; it was too late for him to realize it was set up as a blow to the back of his head knocked him out. When he did come to, he was cold, stripped down to only an undershirt and boxers, a massive headache and a cloth sack over his head.

He was in a vehicle of some sort, and from the snatches of voices he could make out, there were four others on board, a woman and three men. The woman was soft spoken, but seemed to be the one in charge, giving orders as Charlie hadn’t heard her raise any questions like the men did.

“ _I’m afraid some bit of blood will soon have to be shed from that poor man’s head_ ,” said one of the men who spoke in a cadence of rhymes.

“ _That would be wonderfully dreadful…not that any of their poetry can make up for it_ ,” added the third and final man on board, voice slightly distorted. This one gave Charlie the goosebumps.

“ _I beg to differ Mr. Scarecrow_ ,” the one the woman had referred to as Mistah J said before breaking into a cackle of sorts, “ _I find it hilarious_.”

Charlie half expected the ringleader to silence the chatter in the van, but maybe they were somewhere away from the lounge, away from the law enforcement. Soon the back doors of the van were opened, letting in an even colder breeze as Mr. J had calmed down from his own amusement.

“ _Well speak of the devil_ … _here_ she _is._ ”

The van door slammed shut, making Charlie flinch as someone climbed over his legs: “ _I did what you asked. I think Mr. Wayne was rattled enough._ ”

“ _Really? How was he_?” Mr. J asked, sobering up with frightening speed.

Charlie didn’t care so much about what was being said than who was saying what _(well almost…it was clear that this Mr. J person had an unhealthy fixation on Bruce Wayne of all people)._ Whoever had entered the van sounded _exactly_ like Charlie.

Gotham was known for their interesting citizens and even more checkered past, but it was also known to have its fair share of urban legends. An alligator man who roamed the sewers, a magical magic shop, a faceless woman who would emerge only at nights and even a secret society that planted its roots in what would become Gotham during the Revolutionary era, a lullaby the only reminder of its existence to scare children. These were legends that he didn’t take much stock into until now, tied up in the back of a van. There was a very real possibility that he could be killed with his possible doppelgänger very well taking over his life with no one else knowing any wiser…except for the lunatics he found himself trapped with. Maybe his friends and family were right, maybe he should have stayed in metropolis after all…

 

**_(Iceberg Lounge, Selina)_ **

**** _‘All the girls standing in the line for the bathroom. All the girls standing in the line for the bathroom…’_

While the DJ may have thought they were being cheeky by dedicating the current song to everyone lined up for the bathrooms, the actual line wasn’t a joke as Selina could admit that much after ten minutes had gone by as she nursed her only drink of choice that night, a gin and tonic. She figured she earned it after deliberately ignoring Bruce when she went to greet Penguin and simultaneously annoy him, mostly to prove two points to Ivy. Ivy was the one who insisted on Selina approaching the two of them, knowing full well of Selina’s opinion of the _Prince of Gotham._

The line also gave her another vantage point of observing the crowd. By the time it was Selina’s turn, she contemplated on hiding out in there because of how cool it was compared to the rest of the lounge. The heat reminded her too much of Ivy’s greenhouse. It was amazing that no one had passed out yet from heat exhaustion…

As Selina went in, another woman exited from one of the three stalls. She did’t pay much attention to her, though it registered that the woman had on a perfume with a vanilla undertone. Selina wasn’t sure why that random scent caught her attention, until she herself had exited from one of the stalls to wash her hands.

The perfumed woman was reapplying her makeup; at least that’s what Selina assumed given how little makeup the woman appeared to have on. Selina started to wash her hand when she felt a pair of eyes looking at her.

“Yes?” She immediately bit out, not looking at the other woman, but sensing that the woman had shifted ever so slightly away from her.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to stare…its just you look like someone I might have known,” she almost laughed off, blushing slightly.

“You don’t have to apologize…I get that all the time,” Selina told the woman as she looked up into the mirror and got a good look at the stranger with platinum blonde hair in a loose bun and minimal makeup. A flash of memory of a girl in a Gotham Academy uniform tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse came to Selina’s minds eye as that image faded back to the older version of that girl in a dress that lived up to her name, Silver St. Cloud

Selina was about to comment before Silver lit up like a lightbulb before her, blurting out her name instead. Selina wasn’t sure if she had nodded in agreement, she must have as she stood frozen in place as Silver wrapped her arms around Selina giving her a brief hug: “Oh my God Selina! It’s you! You will not believe how hard it has been trying to track you down this week.”

“Funny, I get that a lot,” Selina remarked, thinking back to earlier in the week with Penguin trying to contact her.

Silver let out a slight laugh at that as she continued: “Sorry to have invaded your space, its just that I’ve been really wanting to meet up with you this week so we could do lunch or something. I mean A LOT has changed since we were kids!” She exclaimed, “but seriously, look at you. I thought you were one of those models from the society pages,” Silver finished, not at that Silver really had any room to talk.

She was prettier than ever, (not that she hadn't been, Selina recalled how Bruce fell hook line and sinker for Silver when they were younger), it just seemed that the inside had matched up with the outside. Selina only let Silver ramble on as long as she did in order to get a read on her. So far she seemed genuine her intent. That made Selina wonder if Tabitha had kept in contact with her niece for Silver to change her mind about Selina…

Truthfully, she wasn’t expecting Silver to be so excited in seeing her, given the circumstances around the first time they had met. Typical hormonal teenage girls…now they were only a few years removed from then.

“Are yooooou guys like done in here?” Someone loudly inquired as the door to the bathroom swung open, two women leaning upon each other for support stumbled blindly in as the line outside looked on. The one who spoke up was visibly red in the face with mascara running down it, while the other looked to have faint green parlor, struggling to keep down one too many drinks.

“It’s all yours ladies,” Silver told red as she grabbed her own gold party mask and beaded clutch from the sink's counter. Selina followed suit as they headed back to the main floor of the lounge, now filled with even more people.

As expected, Selina lost sight of Ivy and now, it appeared, the green bean himself. Silver was also in the same boat as she was also looking for someone:

“Bruce! Bruce! BRRRRUUUUCE! Over here, look who I found with no help from you!” Silver loudly called out over the music. Selina couldn’t be help stare at Silver’s hand that latched to her own as they inched their way through the crowd.

While Selina was desperately trying to curb tail her more feline instincts to swipe Silver across the face for the unasked contact, she was also trying to fight against the one thing Ed would occasionally wax poetic about from time to time, _fate_ itself as Selina was once again within Bruce’s orbit that night.

“Silver? When did you get here?” Bruce asked with a small but strained smile. Selina mentally noted that Bruce must have picked that up that quirk from Gordon, as he briefly eyed Selina.

“Not too long ago. The other event ended early and I thought I’d stop by,” she explained, adjusting her party mask, “but as I said, with no thanks to you, I ran in to Miss. Selina here…and this guy here said that he had no idea where to find you this week. I’m shocked he hadn’t put an APB out on you when he first got back to the city,” Silver scoffed as Bruce cleared his throat, clearly looking for an escape from the small talk.

 _“Alright you crazy kids, we’re gonna slow things down a bit and party like its 1989 while I take five and will get things revved up again before the ball drops. So use the time wisely, you might not go home alone tonight,”_ the DJ was overheard saying as they started to mix the tempo of the music into something that sounded more like a facsimile of the 80’s:

 

_“I keep waking at night in the freezing cold_

_Staring at the shadows coming up the walls_

_Giving me a feeling I can't define…”_

 

“Perfect! Bruce needs a new dance partner anyway, he dances too much like someone’s dad,” Silver started with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Selina didn’t miss the way Bruce looked seemingly offended at Silver, throwing him under the bus with her comment, “Well its true,” she said offhandedly.

Their banter was certainly entertaining, reminding her more of a sibling disagreement than one between romantic partners Selina thought to herself.

“You should try dancing with Selina, I’m sure she could teach you a thing or two,” Silver finished, patting him on the shoulder.

“I don’t think I would hear the end of it from you if I didn’t,” he grumbled towards silver.

 

_“…It's just a silhouette, a flick in the blinds_

_It's just a mind trick, I don't know why_

_But it reminds me of someone that I used to know…”_

 

Selina shifted her stance as Bruce approached her, clearing his throat. Glimpses of the sweater clad boy from days gone by, peeked through briefly as he straightened up and began to ask Selina for a dance in the most gentlemanly voice he could offer in such a public space after their initial encounter earlier: “Ms. Kyle, would do the honor of-”

“Sure,” she told him, not letting him finish; a small voice in her head was screaming that her night was slowly turning into a bad-rom com. She needed to get some control back, “But only this once,” she told him taking his hand in hers, dragging him towards the dance floor, not missing the almost smug look Silver had on her face.

 

 ( ** _Iceberg Lounge, Edward)_**

 

Cat and the Wayne kid (Ed still considered him as a kid even though he was sure Bruce was nearing his mid twenties), had gotten the attention of a few club patrons whether they intended or not when Bruce dipped Selina during their little dance that managed to illicit a smattering of applause. Ed thought he was just being a show off after being gone from the city for a few years.

 _However_ , Ed would not deny that there was an undeniable chemistry between Cat and Bruce, even though Cat seemed to have bristled at he mention of his name whenever the Wayne kid came up in conversation prior to this night.

  _“…You know you've got me so enchanted_

_Why you gotta be cold-heart_

_Dancing on your own in the cold streetlight…”_

Cat may have gotten better with her poker face, but it was clear she had a soft spot for the kid, but Ed wouldn’t dare telling that to her face, he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be to his observation...even though he could kind of relate whenever someone would try to insinuate something about Ed and Oswald’s _friendship_ long before his epiphany.

Pushing that train of thought to the side, Ed had managed to find a quiet-ish area to hide out, an empty VIP booth nearest Oswald’s office. None of the employees that were stationed on the second floor VIP area paid Ed any mind and most people wouldn’t dare to try and sit near the office in the first place. At least it was cooler where he was and Ed could peer over the railing to give a quick glance at the crowd below which had resumed their normal dancing after the previous song had ended.

Ed observed that Bruce gave the crowd a slight wave of thanks while Cat grimaced before slinking her way back to the crowd. She left Wayne almost looking like a lost puppy before some platinum haired woman approached him about something. Ed simply shook his head as he resumed his own distraction of choice, scrolling through his PHOTONOW feed.

There were a few updates from Ivy, who was clearly trying to preoccupy herself from the absence of Ecco that night, a single cup of coca and a Ravenclaw scarf posted by Foxy (his profile was public, so there was no need of Ed to formally friend the guy), a rather blurry photo of Leslie and Jim that was recommended by the app itself, which was odd until he noticed that Cat had been the one to like the photo with a hashtag comment.

He continued on scrolling through his feed until his finger hovered over one of those sponsored posts, this one of the Lounge’s New Years Eve festivities. It was a photo that featured Oswald flanked by obviously hired male and female stand ins looking like guests to a Jay Gatsby party complete with masks with the male stand-in’s arm around Oswald’s shoulder a bit too close.

 ** _“They aren’t THAT close… this is the exact same reason you got into the mess you did before. We don’t want a repeat of that,”_** The Riddler drawled, only as a voice in his head.

“I am being ridiculous,” he muttered.

 _“_ Damn right you are being ridiculous,” Zsasz told him, sliding into the empty booth seat across from Ed. The man was dressed in his usual all black ensemble but he took the effort that evening in putting on a matching blazer and sported a gold domino mask, a shocking addition to his party look.

Zsasz noticed that Ed had his phone in hand and had briefly glanced at the offending picture, “the both of you are being ridiculous,” he continued before taking a sniff at the floral arrangements on the table.

“What do you want?” Ed asked, forcefully stuffing his phone back into his jacket pocket, noticing that whatever he was going to say was being held back.

“Nothing…nothing but spreading the good news of smelling the roses every once in awhile. Have you smelled these yet? Did Penguin get these imported? I’m thinking about ordering Penny some; you think she’d like them? Maybe you should order some for him.”

“I…ummm...don’t know,” Ed said looking at the floral arrangement in question taking note of one of the highly pigmented flowers within the arrangement, then back at an oddly relaxed Zsasz. The man was actually smiling like he was head over heels about something and it frankly disturbed Ed, “but I’ll ask around,” he told Zsasz as he scooted out of his seat, glancing at his watch. _11:35PM_

“Ok man. Thanks!” Zsasz called out as Ed took his leave to head back downstairs, and more specifically the bar to get a grasshopper. He had so far refrained from getting one since arriving.

 ** _“ A grasshopper? Really? I like them as much as you do, but you’ve been delaying the inevitable,”_** the Riddler commented as Ed made his way down the spiral staircase, seeing that Oswald was near by at the bottom of the staircase, animatedly entertaining a group of five with one of his many anecdotes.

The closer he reached the bottom, Ed pulled out the question mark shaped mask one of the club’s employees had given him. Compliments from the club they told them. He doubted that considering that the mask looked to have cost more than the party city variety of masks the guests were mostly wearing.

“…and then I told them that would be impossible because I had already purchased it!” Oswald had finished his story with a smattering of laughter following.

" ** _FAAAAAAKE”_** the Riddler taunted as Ed walked by, briefly sparing a glance of Oswald who was absolutely glowing underneath the fractured beams of light of the club’s disco ball, **“ _Listen Eddie boy…now would be the perfect time to go over there what with those sycophants gone…I’m sure our feathered friend would love it if you dragged him away right now up to one of those secluded areas upstairs with that spiffy mask of yours or…”_** the Riddler paused for dramatic effect, **_“Or maybe even the office where we could…”_**

 _OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT,_ Ed mentally hushed the voice’s line of thinking as he turned on his heels in the middle of his trek to the bar spinning around very quickly that he ended up causing a chain reaction, knocking right into one of the few servers on the floor with a drink tray who had by default, caused some to spill on Oswald who had been tailing behind the employee.

_Oh crud._

**_(Iceberg Lounge, Silver)_ **

****

Whatever travels Bruce had taken during his time out of the city, it did absolutely nothing for his stoicism when it came to discussing his feelings.

He was doing so well out on dance floor with Selina…it almost made her jealous.

_Almost._

When their dance ended, Silver was among those who had cheered them on…but then Selina went her own way and Bruce just let her go looking almost out his depth before the wall went back up as he went back to Silver afterwards. Which confused her. She tried to get something out him…realizing that her efforts of trying to be Bruce’s wing woman was starting to look abysmal.

Whether he realized it or not, there was never not a conversation they had where Selina would be mentioned, directly or indirectly. She noticed it when they had gone to the humane society gala…eventually Silver had to call Bruce out on it who had all but tried and failed to deny it given his lack of a proper response.

Now he had his chance with the party, she’d be willing to help him out but she wasn’t going to do all the work.

It was true that she herself wanted to meet up with Selina as well. She wanted to meet the young woman her Aunt Tabs considered worthy enough to pass along some skills that Silver had wanted to learn herself, but after the fiasco with Uncle Theo, Tabs thought it would be better for Silver to stay out of Gotham for awhile when she decided to go back and check up on her soon to be girlfriend Barbara.

That awhile for Silver turned out to be years…not that she was counting.

“Why so sad little lady?” Someone asked her, cutting through her more intrusive line of thinking.

“Little lady?” Silver thoughtlessly remarked as she took a look up at the random stranger that approached her at the standing table she occupied. Bruce had not long ago told her he needed to get some fresh air and would be back shortly.

“I’m sorry. My apologies. It’s just concerning to see someone looking so down during events like these.”

Silver did not respond. She slowly blinked in response as she took in the stranger wearing a dark colored suit with a black mask that seemed to take half of their face, piercingly green eyes and very pale skin from what she could see from the exposed skin the first three undone buttons of their black dress shirt could offer, “uh-huh.”

“Or is it the company you’re with…Brucie can be a real party pooper…very understandable, but you get used to it,” the stranger continued, as Silver perked up at how casual this stranger was talking about Bruce to her, the stranger hadn’t even offered up a name yet.

“Bruce? How do you know Bruce?” Silver asked, pulling her cup of water she had been nursing closer to her.

“Now you’re asking the right questions Ms. St. Cloud…you could say I’m a **_very old_** friend of Bruce’s,” the stranger told her with a very devilish looking smile.

“Old friend eh? He’s never mentioned…” Silver deliberately trailed off to see if this stranger would provide a name, surprisingly he did without missing a beat.

“John, John Doe.”

“Funny, he’s never mentioned you,” she told him taking a long sip of her water, noticing how the smile turned into a very thin line of red.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you for those who have waited patiently for the newest installment. Im not completely thrilled with this chapter, but it is an improvement over the previous version...I will say that. 
> 
> Other than that, thank you to all that have bookmarked, subscribed, kudos'ed and have commented!!! I cannot say that enough.
> 
>  ****Chapter References****
> 
> A younger Gothamized Charlie Collins- From BTAS Episode, "Joker's Favor"
> 
> Jane/"Janey"-From Episode 5x08, "Nothing's Shocking"
> 
> Songs Referenced In Selina's Segment and part of Ed's: "Everyone Nose" by N.E.R.D & "Silhouette" by Tom Odell


	7. There's No Such Thing As Getting Out Of Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred & Lucius try to help Bruce out as realizations are made. Meanwhile, Oswald and Edward have a moment to themselves.

**VII.**

**_(334 Kane Lane, Alfred & Lucius)_ **

****

“Any luck with the results?” Alfred asked Lucius as he placed a piping hot cup of coca onto a coaster he had placed on the counter ever since Lucius had taken up residence at the marbled kitchen island in the townhouse Bruce was using for the night.

“Not yet, but I can confirm that the plant sample Bruce sent had been modified at some point, its just a matter of figuring out with what,” he responded without looking away from the laptop he was borrowing from Bruce.

“I see.” Alfred remarked as the dishwasher chimed at the end of the drying cycle, “and its safe to assume that the video feed is still offline?”

“Yes. While I appreciate your concerns about Selina, we need to focus on the issues at hand” Bruce’s hushed voice came through from the tin sounding laptop speakers.

Luckily Bruce couldn’t see the exchanged looks Alfred and Lucius gave each other from the other end.

“We were just making sure you were having a complication free evening _socially_ Bruce,” Lucius chimed in.

It hadn’t been long ago that Bruce had disconnected the video feed from his tiepin after Alfred and Lucius had unhelpfully given him advice and a running commentary when he found himself face to face with Selina Kyle.

Alfred was fully aware that Bruce had avoided making contact with her after the explosion at the manor. Even when Alfred was recovering from the injuries he sustained, Bruce had been making plans and calls about the city, but not once did Alfred hear Bruce mention Selina. When Alfred tried to bring up the possibility of him reaching out, it was promptly shut down.

Eventually Alfred had to accept Bruce’s hands off approach in dealing with his ties to Gotham. When Bruce took off to “travel” for a good three and a half years, he did not inform her about that either. Alfred had a hunch that Ms. Kyle would be none too happy to see him when they crossed paths.

The scratch Bruce sustained during one of his nightly patrols had proven Alfred correct.

“But on a serious note, I think I may have found a match to that chemical compound,” Lucius started up again, “ it bears some resemblance to an early version of the Crane toxin, but it appears to have been tampered with.”

“Tampered?” Alfred questioned, now concerned once the name Crane came up.

“Fox is right. No one has been exhibiting the usual signs associated with the toxin, but the guests have been acting a bit strangely,” Bruce said as the sound of something being moved around could be heard in the background, “it’s almost as if they’re exhibiting the heightened effects of Ivy’s perfu-”

At that moment the audio cut out, leaving only white noise to filter through. Fox looked concerned while Alfred remained neutral knowing what he would need to do as he removed his apron and put away the dishtowel:

“It appears that we seem to be out of marshmallows and some other items. I’m just going to pop around the corner and pick some up. Any special requests Mr. Fox?”

“No,” he told Alfred not the least bit convinced about the sudden errand, “but now that I think about it, I could certainly go for a peppermint stick, those should be marked down.”

“Peppermint stick. Right, well make yourself at home. I shouldn’t be gone too long,” Alfred finished as Lucius raised his mug of coca up in understanding.

 

**( _Marina Tower, 4 th Floor, Bruce)_**

One benefit of being an heir to a multibillion-dollar enterprise was the opportunity to invest in other smaller companies, whether they were a bakery famous for their lemon macaroons, or a simple startup like _Competitron_.

For Bruce it was a matter of convenience that he sought the purchase of the entire fourth floor of Marina Tower for the budding game company, six floors below the lounge. It also helped that _Competitiron_ had created a rather addicting mobile RPG that Bruce would on occasion play between the more boring board meetings of the week. No one would stop and question the reason why a primary investor would be stopping by the facilities so late… _Bruce hoped._

“Mr. Wayne? What are you doing here?” A stout woman wearing an oversized blue plaid flannel shirt and almost neon yellow wavy hair asked Bruce as she unlocked the glass doors of the main entrance.

“I should be asking the same of you Ms. Mockridge,” Bruce said as the company’s hands-on owner, Daniela Mockridge, let him in.

Mockridge nervously laughed as she pulled back down her rimless glasses, “Burning the Midnight Oil Mr. Wayne. Deadlines to meet for the Minotaur project.”

“Ah, I’ve read a bit about that on…what’s that gamer blog? io6?”

“io3 sir.”

“That’s it! Anyway I'm sorry to have interrupted you from your work. I know that my assistant Pennyworth stopped by here earlier today for a tour of the facilities and I believe that he may have forgotten something while here.”

“The briefcase? Thank goodness. Our intern who showed Mr. Pennyworth around today said he had left it behind at the receptionist’s desk. We tried getting in touch with him about the item but we couldn’t get ahold of him,” Mockridge explained as she walked over to the receptionist’s desk, going to retrieve the suitcase.

Bruce was grateful for the hidden biometric lock on the plain looking briefcase Mockridge was handing over to him.

“My apologies. I will make sure to have a word with my assistant about unattended items,” he told them with one of his best disarming smiles, patting the suitcase for extra emphasis.

 

**_(Iceberg Lounge, Silver)_ **

John, as it turned out, was an interesting character.

There was something hypnotizing about the bright green eyes looking back at her, rimmed in khol behind the mask…and something mischievous as he relayed a story to her about a surprise party he once tried to plan for Bruce, when her phone had buzzed. It was a text from Bruce:

 

 **B:** _Something Came Up. Won't Be Able to make it back._

 **S:** _But it's almost time for the ball drop_

 **S:** _Wait, you aren't with Selina aren't you?_

 **S:** _YOU ARE AREN'T YOU?_

 **B:** _No I'm not. I'll talk to you later._

 **S:** _-______-  Fine. But your friend John here that's been dying to see you will be upset if you don't show._

B: _John?_

 

In the process of getting the last text, Silver had looked up from her phone to find that “John” had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. She looked around to see where he had taken off to but was interrupted by Selina who had tapped her on the shoulder and appeared to be anxious about something: “Silver, that guy you were talking to, did he threaten you?”

 “Bruce’s friend? No.” she said confused at Selina’s suggestion that she was being threatened.

 “That guy _wasn’t_ Bruce’s friend.”

 

**_(Iceberg Lounge, Oswald)_ **

There was a reason why he never had the newer employees out on the main floor for special events. New Years Eve was no exception, yet here he was, in his office, doing his best to not call on his assistant Penny, the new hire that Oswald admittedly hadn’t bothered learning their name and the general manager of a piece of his mind.

Instead Edward ended up being his sounding board for the frustrations that had been building up ever since the month started, including their own little spat, but that was something Oswald wasn’t going to bring up right then and there as he finished up on putting on another suit from the en-suite office bathroom.

He had long since given up on scrubbing out the spots from his other jacket, even if it was far more festive than the formal black. The coat tails would have to do for the “extra flair,” though the jacket seemed to be a bit snug than he last remembered.

From the slight crack of the bathroom door, Oswald would occasionally look beyond his own reflection in the mirror to catch what Ed was doing between his occasional yeses’ he offered up while Oswald complained. He was far too quiet than he normally could be, especially when Ed didn’t automatically offer up some life hack regarding his stained jacket:

“Now that I think about it, none of this would have happened had you not startled the server,” he started to say as a way to get Ed out of whatever had been distracting him all evening. Oswald may have been occupied with guests and the GCPD, but once he had found Ed in the crowd, he didn’t let his line of sight stray too far from him for too long.

“Sure Os, but if you weren’t tailing that server, they wouldn’t have been so nervous.”

Giving a once over in the mirror, Oswald re-adjusted his bow tie. The replacement jacket in his opinion clashed with his hairstyle. He would have to make due, grabbing for a comb and a jar of hair gel he kept for emergencies such as this. It had been years since he had styled his hair so… _boringly_ , save for the wisps of blink and miss plum colored highlights he’d put in: “I thought I had you removed from the guest list.”

“I was Selina’s plus-one. Loophole.”

 _Because he would find some damned loophole,_ Oswald thought.

While he did threaten Ed with the removal of his invitation during their shouting match almost two days prior, he did not actually go through with the threat. It was Ed after all, and whether the man was aware or just plain oblivious, Oswald hadn’t failed to notice the shade of jealousy Ed had exhibited upon seeing Jim Gordon at the lounge giving his usual New Years Eve spiel right before the Valeska fiasco started.

Initially Oswald chided himself for reading too much into Ed’s actions. It wasn’t like Ed held the city’s highest ranking captain in high regard in the first place; but given the altercation that occurred between Ed and the dancer Oswald had oh so briefly fancied, the small ember of hope Oswald had in regards to his _not so brotherly_ affections he had towards Ed, started to come back with a vengeance after keeping it at bay for so long: “I wouldn’t have expected any less from you my friend,” he said, stepping back into the office, adjusting one of the buttons on his tux jacket.

“Why thank…” Ed began, but whatever else he was going to say had died when the two made direct eye contact. Now in the better lighting of the office he noticed that Ed had dialed down on the vibrancy of the usual suits he sported but still cut quite the figure, minus the odd look he was giving Oswald.

Maybe he’d noticed the snugness of the jacket. Had his stress eating for the month caught up to him? That would explain why Olga started to be stingy with the deserts she fixed back at the mansion…

“Something wrong?” He asked Ed, “Does it not match?” he asked quickly looking back down at his jacket, smoothing it out once more even though it wasn’t necessary.                                        

“Nothing’s wrong, everything matches. You just reminded me of something,” Ed explained, still seated.

“I don’t know if I should be concerned by that or not,” he lightly chuckled, wondering where this was going to go.

Instead of seeing Ed out of the office so he could resume his hosting duties, Oswald settled right back into his office chair, his gaze briefly trailed over to the floral arrangement on his desk and one particular flower that stood out to him. Without much thought he plucked the specimen out from the vase to inspect it, twirling the stem between his fingers.

“One of my hallucinations, years ago, you were wearing a tuxedo and a top hat.” Ed got out. A faint blush started to form as he was looking elsewhere in the room.

“Did I happen to be as charming as Gene Kelly?” He asked jokingly as a way to cut through the weird tension that settled between them now that conversation had grown quiet between the two, _or rather when Oswald had stopped airing his grievances._

“Not _as_ charming, but you were singing Amy Winehouse.”

He had to snort at that, as he took a cursory glance over at the window that overlooked the main floor below, the curtain barely open. He could only see part of the main stage, “Miss. Winehouse hmm, that’s a choice, though the lack of charm you must’ve conjured up makes me fear for my hosting capabilities.”

 _If you consider trying to seduce the quarter of GCPD officers out of uniform milling about? You’re doing an abysmal job._ Ed thought to himself unbeknownst to Oswald, “If you’re referring to those hacks of the GCPD, you’re doing a splendid job hosting…even Bullock is _almost_ tolerable for company.”

“I must admit this Valeska nonsense has proven to be a helpful distraction for those imbeciles as far as I am concerned,” he admitted, starting to feel at ease as a whiff of something wonderful calmed his nerves. He wondered if Penny had put in a new air freshener for the office as he twirled the stem of the flower he still held in his hand.

“I’m surprised Jimbo hasn’t suspected anything, let alone accused you of helping with the escape,” Ed observed.

“ _Help_? Ha! That brother of Jerome’s could do me a favor; the insurance policy on this place would certainly help some of the costs for the new lounge if he were to show up. Meanwhile Gordon’s been too busy stumbling over at the feet of the Doc as if she were the best thing since sliced bread,” Oswald finished with an uncharacteristic giggle he tried to suppress.

It didn’t help that Ed was looking at him oddly, “you can at least agree with me about that. They’re not even trying to be subtle about it…just kiss and make up already, blegh,” he continued while the voice in his head was urging him to stop talking, but he couldn’t, “and I thought we were the ridiculous ones,” he finished with more laughter, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

 _STOP TALKING OSWALD CHESTERFIELD COBBLEPOT!_ He internally screamed, he hadn’t even drank that much, not even a drop of Zsasz’s concoction that night, “but at least I don’t try to actively avoid someone I love because of what happened ‘in the past’” he finished off with air quotes, “Let bygones be bygones as I’d say my friend.”

In one swift movement, Ed stood up from his seat and into Oswald’s personal space behind the desk. Oswald shrank back into his chair, almost crushing the flower he had in hand as Ed leaned in closely, seemingly scrutinizing him as his features softened briefly before making a swift grab at the flower Oswald was holding, crushing the petals within his closed fist before discarding it in the waste basket beside them.

“What the hell Ed?!” Oswald sputtered as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him, looking only at the ripped stem of the flower he once held. That was when he replayed in his mind exactly what he had just said to Ed:

_“…but at least I don’t try to actively avoid someone I love because of ‘what happened in the past’”_

Abruptly pulling away, Ed stood up, “Do you know who provided the floral arrangements this year?”

“Not Ivy if that’s what you’re thinking,” he scoffed, trying to recover from the slip up, if not grateful Ed hadn’t pointed it out… _yet._

“Are you sure? Zsasz was acting in a similar way earlier,” he pressed on, heading over to the window that overlooked the crowd, “super chill…no filter, trying to offer ‘relationship' advice.”

“That’s just him,” Oswald said pursing his lips at this sudden change in subject.

“So you mean to tell me that _this_ ,” motioning towards something below them, “is acting normal by his standards?”

Oswald got up from his chair and made his way over to Ed’s side, mentally noting the need for aspirin as he scanned the crowd before finding what was the cause for alarm.

Below, the crowd had parted while a couple danced in synchronization to the tune of a song that had been muffled within the office. That couple consisted of Zsasz and Oswald’s assistant Penny, both sporting a similar flower on their person: “You wouldn’t have happened to have run into Ivy recently?” He asked catching that Zsasz was now looking up towards the office giving them two thumbs up.

“Nope,” Ed replied, emphasizing the “P” and pulled the curtains closed, “But we should probably go and find her.”

“Agreed,” Oswald said, thinking of the possible chaos that could erupt with her pollen floating around, and how to use that outcome to his advantage, “It could get unpredictable down there,” he added highly aware of the fact that he and Ed were now toe to toe.

Ed nodded in agreement, “But I have to ask, when you were talking about Jim and Lee…”

“It was nothing...nothing but that stupid pollen talking,” he lied, but Ed wasn’t buying it.

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I'm sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. What am I?”

As soon as the riddle ended, there was a pause of silence as Oswald tried to process the answer, but unable to speak it aloud as Ed continued.

“Os…I think I should kiss you sober before the year ends or before either of us is completely under the influence of her pollen. I would prefer to do so of my own volition...if you would allow it,” Ed asked.

Oswald nodded, letting Ed cup his face in his hands gingerly to finally close the space between them with a chaste kiss before Ed was pulled down even lower by the tie by Oswald. Any hesitation prior was thrown out the window.

There were still a myriad of things they needed to talk about. Things that had happened over the years that they really never addressed head on, things they had done to each other. Some resolved with an unspoken understanding, but in that moment as they held to each other all seemed to be right in the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Update! Hurrah! You've made it thus far to a new chapter! Hopefully it did not disappoint. (admittedly the Os/Ed section was what took the longest to get right in terms of the fic and not being too ooc)
> 
> If I haven't stated it before, thank you to everyone who has read, commented, kudos'd, bookmarked and subscribed in spite of the sporadic updates. I promise this will be completed before the next new year.
> 
> Chapter Related Notes:
> 
> 1\. Marina Tower-Is an original (but fitting) name of the building that the Sirens/Iceberg 1.0 is housed.  
> 2\. That wasn't a typo about Bruce's travels lasting 3.5 years. That will be explained later.  
> 3\. Daniela Mockridge is a nod to the BTAS character Daniel Mockridge from "Riddle of the Minotaur" (AKA the Animated Riddler's first appearance).


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